Hermione's Shield
by LynstHolin
Summary: DRAMIONE. Continuation of "Hermione's Web". Told from Hermione's point of view, it tells what happens after Lucius discovers that Draco is a traitor and in a relationship with a mudblood. Action, drama, romance, a wizard world war. Very, very AU
1. Chapter 1

This is a continuation of my multi-chapter fic "Hermione's Web", which is also here on this site-just go to my profile.

...

Blue candle flames dimly lit a vast room full of tall shelves. The shelves held nothing but thousands of dust-covered glass globes. Draco peered closely at one of the orbs. "It's the Hall of Prophecy. My father has talked about this room quite a lot with other Death Eaters. _Don't touch them._"

Ron jumped away from the shelf he'd been poking at, startled. "What? They're just glass balls."

"They contain prophecies. If you try to remove a prophecy that's not about you, you'll go quite mad. Hermione's right. This is all just a trick."

Harry frowned at Draco. "What do you mean?"

"There's a prophecy here concerning you, Potter, and guess who wants it. You'll almost certainly find it in row ninety-seven. I suspect the Death Eaters are hoping that you'll be so curious at seeing your name, you'll take the prophecy off the shelf, and then they can take it from you."

Hermione nodded. "That makes perfect sense."

"But I have to be sure that Sirius isn't in danger." Harry scurried down the rows, his shoes sending up puffs of dust. By the time the others caught up with him, he was staring down row ninety-seven with a look of disbelief. There was no one there, and the dust on the floor was undisturbed. Grimly, he searched the shelves until he found his name, and he picked up the orb.

"Harry, put it back! We need to get out of here. The Death Eaters are sure to be coming!" Hermione hissed.

Harry tossed the ball to Neville. "They won't expect you to have it."

"Take the label off. Carefully, so it doesn't tear," Draco said. "May I have one of your earrings, Luna?"

Luna looked reluctant, but she took off one of the small glass earrings she was wearing on her ears. It contained an ugly, lumpy seed. "I suppose I won't be getting it back. They were a gift from my mother. Each one holds a rare faffleberry seed."

_Faffleberry_? Hermione mouthed. Well, now was not the time. It was probably best not to ask, anyway.

With a wave of his wand, Draco made the earring into an orb, and it spat the faffleberry seed out with a _ptooie_ sound. He took the label from Harry's prophecy and stuck it on. "There. If I run into any Death Eaters, I can fool them with this." He put the orb in his robes.

Harry looked like he was impressed against his will. "If we hear the Death Eaters, we split up to distract them, all right? _Go_."

Hermione was in the circular chamber with all the doors when she heard Lucius' voice. She ducked through the nearest door and found herself in a small room that, oddly, had several comfortable-looking beds in it, each with a flannel-covered duvet on top. Rocking chairs with quilted seats sat at the head of each bed. Glowing constellations were painted on the ceiling. She whirled around with her wand out when the door opened behind her, but it was only Draco. He grinned as he surveyed the room. "Under different circumstances, we could have a very good time in here."

Draco held the door so it stayed open just a crack, and Hermione could hear voices.

"He were in there!"

"He took the prophecy!"

"Potter has to still be in here. Find him!"

Draco turned to look at Hermione, crooking a finger at her in a come-hither gesture. "I have a plan." He whispered it into her ear.

The two of them retreated toward the middle of the room. The fake prophecy was now in Hermone's pocket, and her wand was tossed in a corner. Draco stood behind her, one arm clamped around her waist. He used his own wand to open the door a little wider, then pointed it at Hermione's throat. "_Father, I'm in the Star Speaker Room_." The whisper came out as smoke in the shape of a bird, which winged its way out the door.

Hermione didn't have to act frightened when Lucius answered his son's call. The mask with snake-like eyes, the black hood, the voluminous black cloak... he was terrifying, and looked at least ten feet tall. "Why are you here, Draco?"

"I followed them. I could tell they were up to something."

"You were not told to do any such thing!" Lucius did not sound happy with his son.

"I saw her put something in her robes, a glass ball! Give it to me, Granger." Draco poked his wand into Hermione's neck and, taking his arm from around her waist, he held his empty hand up in front of her. The plan was for Hermione to pass the fake prophecy to Draco, and for him to drop it, leading Lucius to believe that the real prophecy was destroyed by his own son. But Hermione's hand was slippery with nervous sweat. The orb squirted out of her grip and shattered on the floor.

Draco pushed Hermione behind him as Lucius raised his wand, snarling. "Get out of the way, boy. Do you understand what this _mudblood _has done?"

Draco raised his wand to his father.

"Malfoy, where are you?" someone called.

"_Get out of the way_, _Draco_." Lucius' quiet rage was spine-chilling.

"Put your arms around me, Hermione." Wand hand shaking, Draco moved so he and Hermione's faces were close together. "Leave now, Father, or I'll call them in, and everyone will know that your son is a traitor with a mudblood lover." He kissed Hermione on the cheek.

"You stupid, foolish child," Lucius hissed.

"Malfoy?" The voice was closer.

Lucius bared his teeth and growled. "Forget it, Nott! Potter is gone, and he took the prophecy with him. He's learned to Apparate." He strode to the door and left the room, careful to close the door behind him.

Hermione's wand was returned to her hand. "Speaking of Apparating," Draco said into Hermione's ear. "Hold tight as you can."

Hermione shrieked as a simultaneous feeling of dislocation and _squeezing_ assaulted her. After what seemed like forever, she felt herself being popped out into a new location. "Why are you even at Hogwarts? You know how to do everything already," she gasped.

"To keep up appearances, and so that the Dark Lord has a connection in the school." He took Hermione by the chin and looked into her face somberly. "We have to go to your parents' house. They're in danger. Do you understand what you need to do?"

Hermione nodded as tears prickled at her eyes. She knew he was referring the spells in the book he'd sent her, spells that would wipe her existence from her parents' memories and inspire them to start a new life far, far away. She looked around. They were on the Muggle street just outside the Leaky Cauldron. "Come on." She took Draco by the hand and led him to the nearest Tube station.

Under different circumstances, taking Draco on his first ever subway ride would have been fun. She would have laughed at his nervousness, and at the deathgrip he had on the pole next to his seat. Instead, she spent the whole ride sniffling and wiping her eyes. She lay her head on his chest and stroked his hair. After his confrontation with his father, he needed comfort, too. Tonight, they were both losing their families.

It was a five block walk from the Tube station to her parents' place, which was a neat semi-detached with its front step right on the sidewalk. White-painted brick, green shutters... Hermione wondered if this would be her last time in her childhood home. "_Alohamora_." The front door opened.

Her parents were in bed. Hermione softly chanted as she performed the complex wand movements. It took fifteen minutes. At the end, she softly said, "You are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and you are going to move to Australia as soon as humanly possible." She paused, watching them sleep, smiling a little at the way her mother was nestled up against her father. She wanted to kiss them goodbye, but didn't want to wake them up.

Back out on the street, Draco told her to hold on again. There was that unpleasant squeezing feeling, and then Hermione opened her eyes to see that they stood in front of the small Anglican church in Diagon Alley.


	2. Chapter 2

"Aren't you worried about the Trace?" Hermione asked.

"My father bribed someone at the MInistry to remove mine years ago."

"Honestly, Draco, why do you know so much advanced magic?"

Draco had Hermione by the hand, and he was leading her through a narrow alley to the back of the church. "My father has had me tutored intensively for the past two years so I can be a good little soldier for the Dark Lord. It worked against him tonight, though. He was afraid to take me on. He knows I'm as good as he is, these days." They paused before the rectory door. "Ready?" he asked as he reached for the lion-headed door-knocker.

"No. But go ahead." Hermione didn't ask what was going on. She was pretty sure she knew.

After a few minutes of knocking, a sixtyish woman in a bathrobe and nightcap answered. When she was able to focus her sleepy eyes on them, she said, "And so it begins again. Come in." She stood aside so they could walk past her as she held the door, which led right into a snug living room. "Two children on my doorstep in the middle of the night, holding hands. In times like these, it can only mean one thing. I haven't performed a Shield Marriage since the first war, but I stocked up on supplies anyway. I knew it was only a matter of time."

_Shield Marriage_. It was what Hermione suspected, but hearing it put into words was a shock. Her heart was pounding and her palms were damp.

"Sit, sit." The vicar gestured at her overstuffed loveseat. "Now, you do realize the serious nature of what you are about to undertake, right? Once you're married, if one of you dies, the other dies, too."

"I'm Pure Blood, and she's Muggle-born. My father knows about us now, and I know he'll kill her."

The vicar looked hard at Draco. "You're the Malfoy boy, aren't you? I had dealings with your father twenty years ago. Performing these marriages made me a blood traitor in his eyes. I don't doubt that your father is capable of killing to preserve his family's honor."

BAM BAM BAM. "I know my son is in there!" It was Lucius' voice. Hermione jumped, then drew even closer to Draco.

"Don't worry. I have very strong wards up. It would take him three days to get in."

"You cannot marry them! They're not of age!" Lucius shouted.

The vicar walked to the door, but didn't open it. "You know very well that Shield Marriages are exempt, Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius replied with a string of vile epithets.

"You come with me, young lady." The vicar led her down a hall and to a closet, and started briskly rummaging around. "I'm Aislin Connor."

"Hermione Granger. He's Draco."

"I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Ah. Here." Aislin pressed a vial into Hermione's hand. "One sip of this will prevent pregnancy for a month. Use it, for heaven's sake. This is no time for a baby. And, here, just a little something for the wedding night. It looks about your size." It was a little satiny pink wisp of a night-gown. Hermione blushed as she tucked it and the vial in her pocket. "And the certificate and rings. We are ready to go."

Lucius was no longer banging on the door when Hermione returned to the living room. He was in an argument with a couple of men, from the sound of it. "Good, hard-working people are trying to sleep, you arrogant popinjay!" bellowed a deep, froggy voice.

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" Lucius snapped.

"Get off our street!" yelled a third, reedy voice.

"You misbegotten mongrels-AHHHH!" There was a loud crack.

"Is he gone, Normie?" Aislin called.

"Yeah," said the reedy voice.

"Thank you and good night, men!" Aislin handed one ring to Hermione and one to Draco. They were a dull brass color. "We'll make this short and sweet, so you can leave before _he_ comes back. Draco, as you slip the ring on her finger, say 'I, Draco Malfoy, will be your husband and your shield, and none shall part us, even unto death'."

Hermione couldn't help trembling as Draco said the words. The ring adjusted itself to her finger with a tickly rippling motion. Without prompting from Aislin, she took Draco's hand and said the words. "I, Hermione Granger, will be your wife and your shield, and none shall part us, even unto death."

"Hold hands so your rings touch." Aislin held her wand over their clasped left hands and chanted. The rings, which looked like they were made of polished gold now, began to glow. A line of white, sparkling light came out of each ring and entered the other. Hermione watched, fascinated. It was a very powerful bit of magic. The rings would glow until their deaths, or until they both willingly agreed to dissolve the marriage under circumstances completely free of duress. The spell was partially based on the Unbreakable Vow, but there was a mystery at the heart of it. There were those who maintained that the glow was caused by a tiny bit of the other's soul in the ring; like a Horcrux, but, since it was freely given out of selfless love, it didn't require murder. Others believed no such thing was possible, and it was actually love itself illuminating the rings. There were some who thought that Shield Marriages should be outlawed until the magic behind them was better understood.

"There. It's done. You're married," Aislin said. She bent over her coffee table and started filling our the marriage certificate.

Draco put his arms around Hermione's waist and drew her close. As their lips met, she started crying again. Feeling the wet on his cheeks, Draco pulled back. "I'm not that bad at kissing, am I?"

Hermione swiped at her cheeks. "It's just that I always expected my parents... you know, my father giving me away and all."

"When all this is over with, and your parents are back, we'll have a real wedding, all right?"

Hermione nodded and tried to smile. Draco kissed her on the forehead.

"Sorry to interrupt, dearies, but I need you two to sign the certificate, and then you'd better go. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucius came back with some of his Death Eater playmates." Aislin held out a quill. The spaces for the witnesses' signatures had 'not applicable/Shield Marriage' scrawled across them. Draco and Hermione signed.

"I don't know how to thank you for this," Draco said to Aislin. He looked near tears himself. He took the older woman's hand and shook it.

Aislin smiled. "Just fight the good fight."

Out on the street again, the two newlyweds walked hand in hand past all the closed shops, a three-quarters moon overhead. "What now?" Hermione asked.

Draco gently pushed her against a wall and pressed his entire body up against hers. "We get a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the night."

"We'll be in trouble when we go back to Hogwarts in the morning."

"These rings don't come off, you 'll know we were out."

Hermione's body felt hot all over. "Let's do it, then. It'll be our honeymoon." Only heaven knew what consequences they'd be facing for tonight. Why not have one good night alone together?

Draco grinned. "Let's go, then." He tried to pick her up. He dropped her and went for his wand when there was a faint scraping sound behind them.

"_Expelliarmus_!"


	3. Chapter 3

Draco's wand flew from his grip. Lucius emerged from the shadows and seized his son's left hand. When he saw the ring, he slapped Draco across the face hard enough to rock his head back. "Do you know what your life will be worth if the Dark Lord learns that you're a blood traitor? Nothing._ Nothing_." Without looking, he pointed his wand at Hermione. "Don't try it, Mudblood. I may not be able kill you now, but I can still hurt you quite badly."

Hermione lowered her right hand to her side.

Lucius said some words that made a strip of white cloth come out of his wand. He wrapped it around Draco's hand, hiding the ring. "Just say that you were hurt. There's not much left of the school year, anyway. It looks like your signing that binding contract to apprentice at Dogweed and Deathcap's this summer will be for the best. You can just wear your dragon hide gloves whenever you're around other people." Lucius turned to face Hermione and took her by the upper arm roughly. "As for you, my little _femme fatale_, you are leaving the country."

"Don't hurt her!" Draco cried.

"Keep your voice down, boy." Lucius pulled Hermione so close, she could feel his breath on her face. "You will have to go to France. The French wizarding community is notoriously independent, and they've resisted the Dark Lord to the point of tarring and feathering Death Eaters. Refugees from all over the world are gathering there."

"F-france?" Hermione said in a small voice. She winced as Lucius' fingers bruised her.

"You can't just send her away. She's my wife now," Draco said, his eyes huge and the same color as the moon.

"Don't tell me you thought that you'd be enjoying wedded bliss in a rose-covered cottage," Lucius laughed mirthlessly. "I cannot keep her safe here. That ring will make her a target for anyone loyal to the Dark Lord. Not that I would care if she lived or died if it wasn't for the stupid thing you just did. We're going now. This won't be pleasant for either of us, Miss Granger, but you're going to have to hold onto me tightly."

"I'm coming, too." Draco had picked his wand up, and he was glaring at his father with his jaw jutting out stubbornly.

"Fine. You can say goodbye. Let's get out of here."

Putting her arms around Lucius Malfoy was one of the last things Hermione wanted to do, but she did it. He was more solidly built than his son, and he smelled of sandalwood. _I used to love the scent of sandalwood, but I'll hate it forever now, _she thought. She could feel Draco's hands on her as the claustrophobia-inducing dislocation of Apparition hit her again.

Their feet hit tarmac. Hermione was starting to feel sick from apparating so many times in one night. She swayed on her feet. "Where are we?"

"Dover. Catch a ferry to Calais, then get yourself to Paris. There is a large wizarding community there." Lucius reached inside his cloak and pulled out money, both Muggle and wizard, and threw it on the ground in front of Hermione.

"I could go with her and-and help her get settled in before I have to go to Dogweed's for the summer," Draco said, reflexively placing his body between Hermione and his father.

"You will go back to Howarts and finish out the school year. You are not going to do anything out of the ordinary. Thanks to your little stunt at the Ministry, I, and by extension, you and your mother, am going to lose favor with the Dark Lord. He is not going to be pleased that we didn't get the prophecy. Every little thing we do will be noted. Any suspicion of disloyalty will have dire consequences. Do you understand?"

Hermione and Draco stared at one another.

"Say your farewells now, Draco. We need to get you back to school."

It wasn't like a scene in the movies, with the starred-crossed lovers crushing each others' lips with passion. It was two children clinging together for comfort. Just a week ago, they'd been merely playing at adult things. Now Hermione was being cast out into the world, all alone. She began to tremble all over.

"That's enough. We've got to get going." Lucius rapped his wand on the top of Draco's head.

Draco gave Hermione one last, wordless look and then-CRACK-he was gone.

...

Hermione ate a fast food breakfast that sat uneasily in her stomach, and caught a ferry at eight o' clock. The water was choppy, and her breakfast ended up going over the side. She rested her forehead on the cool metal of the railing for a while, then she stood up straight and watched the White Cliffs of Dover retreat away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

Dialogue in italics is spoken in French.

...

A hand gently shook Hermione awake. "_We're in Paris. The youth hostel there on the corner is clean and not too expensive_," a woman's voice said. Hermione opened her eyes. Exhausted by the long, sleepless night, she'd slept all the way from Calais to Paris.

"_Thank you. Thank you so much_," Hermione replied.

The woman smiled and waved goodbye as she pulled away from the curb in her red sports car. She'd taken pity on Hermione on the ferry and had given her crackers to settle her stomach. She'd been travelling with her two-year-old daughter, so Hermione had felt safe accepting her offer of a lift into Paris. Knowing that there were still kind people out there made her want to cry all over again.

Hermione discreetly counted the Muggle money she had. It was enough for a meal, but there was no way she could afford the hostel. She had a vision of herself sleeping under a bridge and rummaging through garbage to find things to eat. How on earth was she supposed to find the French Ministry of Magic?

A hand on her waist startled her out of her thoughts. "_What a lovely young woman, but shouldn't you be in school_?" A middle-aged man leered at her. "_Are you a runaway? Perhaps you need someone to take care of you_?"

Hermione grasped her wand through her robes. "_Please, sir, I'm not interested_."

"_Ah, I can tell you are English by your accent. You're a ways from home, aren't you_." He took a tress of her hair between his fingers and caressed it. "_A girl like you shouldn't be alone in a big city like Paris. There are all sorts of bad men out there_."

Hermione jerked her head, leaving strands of her hair still between his fingers. She started to pull out her wand.

"Ah, there you are, my girl!" The man vanished into an alley as a large, thirty-ish woman bore down on Hermione. The woman took her by the arm. "Out on the street in your Hogwarts uniform. You must be a refugee," the woman said, sotto voce.

"_Yes, I am. I'm looking for the Ministry of Magic_."

"_Ah. Your French is good. That will it much easier to get you a job._"

A job. Of course. Hermione would have to support herself now.

"_My name is Madame Durand. I'll get you to where you need to go_."

They took the Metro to a narrow, shabby, zig-zaggy street. Pedestrians would walk toward the sign that identified the street as the Rue Chat Noir, pause with puzzled expressions on their faces, and turn around and walk in the opposite direction. The woman led Hermione past the sign, and after ten paces, there was rippling all around them. The street went from shabby to quaintly picturesque, with small, white-washed shops lining it. Hermione's stomach gurgled as they walked by a pâtisserie. Madame Durand gave her an apologetic look. "_You must get in line at the the Ministry as soon as possible_. _There are hundreds of refugees coming every week._"

The street got starighter and wider, and it led to a square with statues of heroes of the Paris goblin rebellion of 1723. On the other side of the square was a neo-classical building with pillars of white marble. Bas reliefs depicted scenes from French wizarding history, such as Jean-Luc the Sturdy defeating the giants of Breton, and Madamoiselle Dominique successfully distracting the forces of an invading army of dark wizards by leading hundreds of stark-naked women into battle. A steady stream of people was going up and down the grand stairs leading from the street to the gleaming double doors.

Behind the doors was a vestibule. It was bedlam. People pleaded for help in a dozen languages, children wailed, Ministry workers ran to and fro. As soon as they entered, a man with a clipboard and a scowl approached them. "_Refugee_?"

"_Yes_."

"_Speak French_?"

"_Yes_."

The man handed Hermione a stack of papers. "_Fill these out and bring them there_." He stabbed a finger at a window with a long line of people in front of it.

The vestibule was crammed with rickety tables and chairs. Hermione found an empty seat next to a woman with a screaming baby and started filling out the forms. Name, place of birth, blood status, marital status (with a box to check if one was a partner in a Shield Marriage), education, employment history, reason for fleeing... 'Please list all your current possessions, including money and the clothes you are wearing'. That was easy. A skirt, a blouse, robes, knee socks, shoes, underwear, two pound coins, a 50 franc note, three Galleons, five Knuts, a little pink nightie, and a bottle of birth-control potion. Tears swam before her eyes.

Her papers completed, she got in line. The queue inched forward at a glacial pace. It was night by the time Hermione reached the frazzled woman manning the window. The clerk studied her papers carefully, rifled through file drawers, sent and received messages, and had animated discussions with other Ministry workers. Finally, she handed Hermione a key with a tag attached that said '875 Rue Chat Noir #52'. "_Your flat_." She filled out a piece of parchment and stamped it with an official seal. "_Take this to the book store across the square tomorrow morning. Monsier Martin will give you a job. Next_!"

...

Hermione's flat wasn't much bigger than a closet. It was in an ugly, raw-looking addition that had been recently slapped onto a one-story building. The cot was narrow, and the pillow flat, but, as exhausted as she was, it looked like heaven. She kicked off her shoes, fell onto the cot, and immediately went to sleep.

...

Tap, tap, tap. Hermione opened her eyes slowly. There was a very familiar silhouette at her flat's lone window. "Hedwig!" Hermione let the owl in, and fed her a morsel of cheese that she'd saved from her supper of the previous night.

'Hermione,

Snape was right. We have all been expelled from Hogwarts permanently. I'm staying at Grimmauld Place for a little while. It's just me and Sirius. Nothing has been said, but I don't think I'm welcome at the Weasleys right now. Because of me, now there are two more Weasleys that won't be finishing their education at Hogwarts. Luna says her father isn't all that upset, but Neville's grandmother is very angry. Oh, and Malfoy, of course, didn't get even a slap on the wrist. He told Umbridge that he was trying to stop us from having a firewhiskey party in the Forbidden Forest, and Umbridge bought it. Later, he showed us his ring. I can't believe you're married-to MALFOY! But I guess that if he would do something like that, he really does care about you. It's just hard to wrap my head around it.

I suppose you'd like to know what happened to me at the Ministry. Not much, really. The Death Eaters left long before anyone else got there. Snape sent Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye. I got shouted at quite a lot. It was all a trick, of course. Sirius was never in any danger. Both Snape and I have received orders-I am to learn occlumency, and Snape is to teach me occlumency. Neither of us are that happy about it, but it has to be done. It's really scary, knowing what Voldemort can do. And I still can't get anyone outside of the Order to believe that he's come back.

I haven't heard from Dumbledore at all. I think he's probably very disappointed in me.

I hope you're doing alright, wherever you are. Please send a letter back with Hedwig.

Harry'

Hermione had just seen Hedwig off when another owl appeared, a black one that she didn't recognize.

'Dear Hermione,

I'm so sorry things went so badly. Sorry sorry sorry. I miss you so much already. I don't know where you are, how you are, who you're with, if you even have a roof over your head. I do know I love you, and I'll do whatever I have to do to be with you again. I'll make it all up to you. I'll make you happy. I swear I will.

Yours forever,

Draco'


	5. Chapter 5

Dialogue in italics is spoken in French.

...

Even though she knew she should be getting ready for her new job, Hermione sat down to write a reply. She needed time to stop crying, anyway.

'Dear Draco.

Neither of us could have predicted what happened. These are bad times. Bad things are going to happen. We can get through this. Please stop blaming yourself.

I was at the French Ministry yesterday. They gave me a very small flat of my own, a bag of things like clothes and toiletries (and the pen I'm using right now), some food, and a job prospect. I'll miss school and my friends and my parents, and I will most certainly miss you (so much, I can't even put it into words), but I'm safe and fed. Seeing how many refugees there were at the Ministry, and how desperate so many of them were, I realize that I've been very lucky, in a lot of ways. Things are a lot worse in some places. I don't understand why the UK wizarding community doesn't know about it.

On a lighter note, I have a question regarding that story you told Umbridge, about breaking up a firewhiskey party. You must have gotten back to Hogwarts much later than everyone else. That didn't seem a little suspicious to her? [drawing of a face with a raised eyebrow]

Well, I must be going. I'm supposed to see someone about about a job this morning. Just remember I love you, and write back soon.

Forever yours,

Hermione'

A list of rules posted on the back of the door (no cooking in one's flat, no parties, no pets or familiars) said to call Bonbon's name to have a bathtub brought to one's room (limit one bath per tenant per day). Bonbon was a harried-looking house elf, and the tub was very small. When she sat in it, Hermione's knees were almost at her ears.

Hermione rummaged through the bag of clothes she'd been given at the Ministry. They were all slightly too big, and meant for someone at least twenty years older, but she couldn't go to meet a potential employer wearing the same smelly, wrinkled clothes she'd had on for over twenty-four hours. She chose a tweed skirt and a blouse with a huge bow at the neck. Then she was off for her new job.

...

"_I'm sorry I am unable to pay you very much_," Monsieur Martin said as he showed Hermione around his shop, "_but I refuse to sell anything about the Dark Arts to anyone unless I am quite sure that they are not sympathizers of the Dark Lord. This cuts into my sales considerably_."

The shop was crammed with rare and ancient tomes, with only the narrowest of aisles between the stacks. The sight of all those books lifted Hermione's mood a little. Three cats dozed on the wide sill of the front window; M. Martin explained that he had a horror of vermin gnawing on his merchandise, and always kept mousers in his shop.

He led her to a section with locked cases. "_You will not touch these. There are grimoires that can kill instantly, if not approached properly, and books covered in human skin_."

Hermione grimaced. She would have no trouble refraining from peeking at the volumes in the Forbidden section.

M. Martin opened a door to a back room. "_Here is where you will do most of your work. You will unpack books that come in, pack books going out, and do repairs. I'm sorry that this is not exactly the sort of thing that most young ladies are interested in_."

Hermione looked at a stack of wooden crates full of books that were just begging to be read. She smiled a little. "_Trust me, this is perfect_."

...

Hermione was unlocking her door when a couple came clattering up the stairs, laughing and holding hands. She saw their glowing wedding bands and thought how ludicrously young they were to be married. She supposed that she and Draco would seem that way to others, too.

"Français? English? Rooskyi yazik?" the girl asked. She had curly blonde hair, and her mouth was outlined in shocking pink lipstick.

"English."

"I am Katya, and this is Vassily."

"I'm Hermione."

Katya gaze fastened onto Hermione's ring. "Where is husband?"

"Back home still."

Katya's eyes got big. "Oh, so sad! You must be careful. This is bad place for girl alone. Bad men come where refugees are. Bad man tried to get me five days ago." She leaned forward and whispered into Hermione's ear. "Pimp." Hermione shuddered inwardly as she remembered the man who'd importuned her the day before. Of all the things she'd thought she'd had to worry about, sex slavery wasn't one of them. What sort of demon would target refugee women that way?

"Where are you from?" Hermione asked Katya.

"Moskva. Moscow. Too many dark wizards there. They say they follow Dark Lord, but they plot against Dark Lord. My father is dark wizard. I run away because I love Muggle-born." Katya smiled up at Vassily.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand why we don't know how bad it is in Britain. Hardly anyone even believes Voldemort is back."

Katya flinched, and Vassily went pale. "Do not say his name!" Vassily barked.

"Sorry."

"Whole world knows British Ministry and newspapers are controlled by Death Eaters," he said.

Hermione's mouth went dry.

...

The sound of an owl's beak tapping on her window woke her up again.

'Dear Hermione,

You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you are all right. I hate myself for not coming with you. I've defied my father so much lately, and then I just caved in to him. I don't understand myself sometimes. So what if I don't finish out the school year? Does it even matter anymore? Tell me where you are, and I'll be there, I swear. Just say the word.

With everything that's happened, you want to know why Umbridge believed my story? Really? That made me laugh. I'll tell you a secret. Umbridge didn't believe me. I could tell by the look on her face. But she's been in love with my father for decades (horrifying to think about, isn't it?), and I think she thinks if she punishes me... oh, I don't what she thinks, really. I just know that I can get away with almost anything with her.

Back to the serious stuff, I'm not joking. Give me the address of where you're staying, and I'll come as fast as I can.

Forever yours,

Draco'

Hermione sat on her cot reading the words over and over again. It had been pounded into her head by her parents from a young age, the idea that nothing mattered as much one's education. Telling Draco to skip out on the last week of school... it went against everything she'd believed all her life.

Through the thin walls of her flat, she could hear Katya and Vassily speaking in Russian, laughing, arguing loudly, and then... making up loudly. She pulled out a sheet of fresh parchment that she'd bought from M. Martin with her day's earnings, picked up her pen, and began to write.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione took in a deep, ragged breath and began to write.

'Dear Draco,

You have to know I want you with me. You must know that. BUT. I know that school doesn't seem that important right now, but the war won't last forever. An education is one of the most important assets a person can have. Just hold on.

I can't believe I just wrote that. I miss you so much. But, please, stay in school. Maybe if you're a really good apprentice, Dogweed will let you have some time off this summer.

In the meantime, working in M. Martin's shop will keep me busy. He specializes in rare books. I'm allowed to read most of them on my breaks, even ones that I wasn't allowed to read at Hogwarts. The ones I'm not allowed to read (like the Necronomicon), I really don't want to. If I can't have you, a shop full of books is the best consolation.

I met a couple of my neighbors yesterday, and they seem nice, so perhaps I'll make friends here. Don't worry about me.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hermione

P.S. Could you look after my cat? Crookshanks is quite self-sufficient, but I don't want him to be lonely. Maybe Dogweed's shop could use a mouser.'

Hermione apologized to the overworked Bonbon when she got her bath. Bonbon just looked down his long, crooked nose at her (as best he could, given that he wasn't even hip-high) and grunted before apparating away. Once in the tub, she put her face on her knees and allowed herself exactly one minute to cry.

M. Martin was going over the store with a feather duster when she got to work. "_There's a new shipment_," he told her, and she headed for the back room. Crates were stacked up to the ceiling. Hermione got out her wand and set to work unpacking, sorting, and cataloging.

A little after noon, Hermione heard M. Martin talking to an Englishman with a imperious way of speaking. "_I hear you have a copy of 'The Munich Manual of Demonic Magic' in its entirety. I would like to buy it_."

"_I'm sorry, sir, but that is a very dangerous text, and I cannot sell it to you unless someone I trust can vouch for you. The book must not fall into the hands of the Dark Lord's followers_."

Hermione cracked the door open quietly and peeked out. The Englishman was slim and aristocratric looking. "_Are you turning down a paying customer? What a way to conduct business_!" the man harrumphed. From her viewpoint, Hermione could see the man's hand starting to draw his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione had drawn her own.

The Englishman's wand flew across the store, barely missing a cat.

M. Martin looked at Hermione in surprise. The Englishman cursed a blue streak and ran toward where his wand had landed. Two men entered the shop, one short and one tall, and the Englishman slammed into them, falling onto the floor on his butt. The sleeves of his black robes rode up, exposing a Dark Mark.

The tall man hissed. Both men grabbed the Death Eater by the arms and dragged him kicking and screaming out of the shop. "_Death Eater_!_" _they shouted, "_Death Eater_!"

"_If you want to leave for lunch, you should do it now. It will be a mob scene soon_," M. Martin said.

When she stepped out the door, Hermione flinched at the sight of dozens of people running toward her. Well, not toward her, actually. Hermione caught a glimpse of the two men pinning the Death Eater to the cobble-stone street, the tall one one kneeling on his shoulders and the short one sitting on his legs, before all three were swallowed up by a crowd. The cry of "_Death Eater_!" was repeated over and over again, and translated into countless languages. People began pouring out of buildings, and Hermione shrank to the very edge of the street, up against a glass window displaying high-fashion witch's robes. The crowd roared like a ravening beast.

Inching along the storefronts, Hermione came to a door, and she fell into a café. The waiter huffed when he saw Hermione and started tying his apron back on. He wasn't happy about having to miss the action. "_What do you want_," he asked in a sulky tone.

"_Black coffee, and could I get a sandwich_?" She sat on the closest chair. Her legs were all wobbly. After nearly an hour, the flood of people went in reverse.

M. Martin was blasting the street with a jet of water from his wand, washing things down into the sewers. "_What happened to the Death Eater_?" Hermione asked him.

M. Martin shook his head. "_You don't want to know. The Dark Lord must want that book. A Death Eater would only come here if he was suicidal or under orders_."

The rest of the afternoon was blessedly uneventful. Hermione met Katya and Vassily on the sidewalk. Katya was holding a bottle of white wine. "You must join us!" the Russian girl exclaimed happily. "We are celebrating!"

They headed for a nearby park. "What's the occasion?" Hermione asked.

"We are having baby," Vassily said proudly.

Hermione looked a little closer at the botle Katya carried; it was actually sparkling apple juice. "Congratulations." She hoped she sounded sincere. Having a baby at a time like this seemed like a terrible idea.

Katya set the bottle down on a picnic table, then pulled some things out of her robes. "I bought you gift. It will make you invisible to bad men." She gave Hermione a twisted leather cord with an olive-sized wooden carving of a wizened face on it. "I have, too. See?" She pulled the collar of her robes down so Hermione could see the talisman at her throat.

Hermione had seen a woman sitting on the sidewalk with a dozen of the necklaces spread out on a cloth beside her. "That's very thoughtful of you, Katya. But I don't think it will actually make us invisible." She tied the cord around her neck and dropped the talisman under her blouse. A cheap trinket from a street vendor would have no protective properties whatsoever, but her parents had taugh her to accept gifts politely.

Katya unfolded a napkin, revealing a tiny wedge of brie, which she carefully cut into thirds. Hermione made hers last as long as possible.

...

Hermione's heart leapt when she saw an unfamiliar owl tapping at her window. Opening the letter, she saw that it was Harry's scrawl, not Draco's perfect cursive. Her disappointment made her feel guilty.

"Hermione,

I can't use Hedwig any more. There are people who think I can lead them to Dumbledore, so she's not safe. We took her to an owlery out in the country. There are some male snowy owls there, so maybe she'll have owlets. I miss her so much.

Remember why Snape stopped teaching me the Legilimency stuff before? How I got into his head and saw something he didn't want me to? It happened again. It was Snape crying and kissing a baby's head. I asked who the baby was, and he got so angry, he swore he'd never give me another lesson. But he got orders from above, and I'm seeing him again today. I'm really looking forward to it. (That was sarcasm.)

Ron says hello. You know he'll never get around to actually writing you a letter. Molly says she's going to knit you a sweater with a HJM monogram. You've been warned.

Harry'

She waited so long that she had to run all the way to work, but she didn't get a letter from Draco. She felt a little sick, wondering if he thought that she didn't want him any more, if he was angry with her. What if he never wrote to her again? She was so glum, M. Martin went out and bought her a chocolate truffle. Hermione gave her boss a wan smile as she bit into the confection.

The bell on the shop door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. "That is a very interesting cat, sir," M. Martin said.

Hermione looked up to see a very familiar ginger-furred beast being held in someone's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Note: In earlier parts of this fic, I moved the OWLs to early spring, making them more like assessment tests than finals. Because I am the author, and I AM POWERMAD!

...

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You greet the furball before you greet your husband? I'm hurt." Draco's face was smiling at her from above her cat's gigantic head.

Hemione suddenly couldn't say a word. She felt her mouth spread into a ridiculously wide grin. At the same time, there was a prickling in her eyes. She melted when he gave her a one-armed hug. Crookshanks purred and butted her chin.

There was a delicate cough. "_Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off_, _ Hermione_," M. Martin said, "_You have the next two days off anyway_."

"_Thank you_," Hermione said, her voice breaking up. She looked down at her cat. "Oh. I can't have pets in my flat." Crookshanks jumped out of her and Draco's arms and onto the sill of the front window. He and a brown tabby sniffed each other, then he turned in a circle three times and laid down for a nap.

"_That cat is part kneazle_," M. Martin said.

"_He is quite special_," Hermione said "_And he loves to hunt rats_. _I'll see you Tuesday, Monsieur Martin_."

Out on the street, Hermione wrapped both arms around Draco, pressing her face against the front of his shirt. "You ignore me to talk to your cat, and then you cry. Maybe I should go back to Hogwarts," he said teasingly.

"You should!" Hermione laughed a little. "What are you doing here, you idiot?"

"I knew you'd tell me to stay in school." He lifted her chin up and wiped a tear away with his thumb. "It's such an essentially _Hermione_ thing."

"But you're going to miss the last week! The finals! Your education will be delayed, and your permanent record-"

Draco shut her up with a deep kiss. It also quieted her brain, making all the worries that crowded it disppear. "Where is your flat?" he asked. She led him, their lips barely separating. Into her building, and they paused on the stairs to run their hands all over each other until they heard a door opening. Upwards to her tiny room, and onto the cot, and Hermione finally felt like she was really married.

...

The next morning, Hermione woke up with a warm body snugged up behind her. She smiled the smile of a satisfied woman as she stretched, pressing back against Draco. He let out a sleepy 'hummmm' as he slipped an arm around her waist. He'd done something to the cot to make it wider-wall-to-wall, actually.

BLAST! Hermione sat straight up. She scrambled to the foot of her bed in a panic and started digging through her bag of belongings. "What's wrong?" Draco asked.

Hermione found the flask the vicar had given her. The wax seal was unbroken. "I... Oh, all the times I said mean things about girls who got pregnant. Why couldn't they just control themselves, blah, blah, blah."

"What is that, _Impediconceptio_ potion?"

"Yes. But it's not going to impede much of anything if I don't _remember to use it_." Hermione yanked at her hair. "Well, one time... what are the odds I'll get pregnant, right?"

"It was three times." Draco snatched the flask away from Hermione and unsealed it, holding it to her lips. He corked it again after she had a sip and dropped it into the bag. "Now it's going be four times."

...

Eventually, they got out of bed and had brunch in a park. "There's still time for you to get back in time for school," Hermione said, "You said yourself that Umbridge lets you get away with everything, anyway. She won't punish you too badly for running away."

Draco frowned. "Hogwarts isn't going to be a place I want to be much longer."

"What do you mean?'

"Umbridge has plans. She's been looking for any excuse to expel everyone she suspects of being in Dumbledore's Army. And she's been talking about running Hogwarts like a military school." Draco looked down at the ground. "More soldiers for the Dark Lord."

"Umbridge is on Voldemort's side?"

"Ugh, I hate it when you say that name! Yes, she is. Without a doubt. You should hear the things she says when she's around friends and has gotten a few cocktails in her. She thinks Muggle-borns are less than human. I've been hearing her say things like that since I was little." Draco buried his face in Hermione's hair.

"So how are you going to finish your education?" Draco started laughing into her hair. She smacked him on the back of the head. "I mean it!"

"i'll just go to another school."

"Not Durmstrang! It's so far away."

"No way. Viktor Krum and I would be fighting over you all the time."

"You are such an idiot!" Hermione laughed.

"Is 'idiot' my new name?"

"it should be. But where would you go to school?"

"With all the refugees here, they'll probably open another school here. I wouldn't be surprised if half the teachers at Hogwarts ended up in Paris." Draco pulled back and gave Hermione a grim look. "Oh, and she's mentioned 'cleaning up' the Forbidden Forest."

"No," Hermione gasped. "Grawp!"

"What's a grawp?"

"Hagrid's half-brother. He's a giant, and he lives in the Forest."

"Well, that explains some of the things I saw from the Astronomy Tower."

"We have to stop her!"

"How?"

"I don't know," Hermione sighed as she flopped down on her stomach, "I'll try to think of something."

...

Hermione fed the owl a little tidbit, then watched it wing away. It was carrying a letter to Harry, telling of Umbridge's nefarious plans. Perhaps he could tell someone that could do something. "Hello, Hermione!" Katya had just entered the owlery, holding a deceased mouse by the tail. She grinned conspiratorially. "Husband is here, yes? You were... very happy last night." Hermione went hot and red. Oh, Merlin. If she could hear Katya and Vassily, then of course they could hear Draco and her. Katya laughed at the expression on Hermione's face. "So silly! You are married. You are supposed to have fun together. You and husband come on picnic with us. We have cheese, you bring bread."

...

Their week together went by so fast. Exploring Rue Chat Noir and the winding alleys that branched off of it, picnicking with the Vodyanovs, long and playful conversations in the sun, and, of course, what they did together in the night-time. Hermione laid on her back. Draco was beside her, caressing her and nestling his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I don't want to leave," he breathed.

"What happens if you don't?"

"The binding agreement I made with Dogweed created something almost like a port-key inside me. I'm not sure it's even legal. If I don't show up to start my apprenticeship at eight o' clock sharp Monday morning, he activates it, and, boom, I'm back in Hogsmeade." Draco trailed his fingers across her stomach, making her muscles jump a little bit from the tickliness. "Maybe I won't leave early. Maybe I'll just let Dogweed activate it. It'll give me more time with you."

"But didn't he say he'd make you take care of the corpse flower if that happened?"

"Oooh, a smelly plant. Scary."

"But he'll be more likely to let you have some time off if you're a good boy. Don't you want to come back to me?"

"Mm. You've got a point. I guess I'll leave tomorrow morning. We should make the best of tonight."

Hermione was thinking _no, no, no_, _don't go_, but she didn't say it. It wasn't long before the way he touched her rendered her incapable of thinking anything.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco was gone, off to start his apprenticeship, and Hermione was on her own again. It felt lonelier now than it did before he came. She'd grown accustomed to falling asleep against his back, to hearing his breathing, to being woken up by his roaming hands, to seeing him trying to fold himself into the ridiculously small bath-tub in the morning. Hearing the Vodyanovs through the thin walls made her ache. Sometimes, she felt that she must be the loneliest sixteen-year-old girl in the world.

At least she had a job that she loved. She was taking a break, sitting on the window sill in the front of the store and petting Crookshanks, when she heard a hubbub out in the street. Another Death Eater meeting a sticky end? No, the sound of the crowd was different. Happy and joyful, not beastlike and angry. Hermione stepped out the door. "_What's happening_?" she asked a passing witch.

"_The hero of the Battle of the Forbidden Forest is here_!" the woman cried happily.

The crowd swelled. Hermione feared that she would miss seeing the man being celebrated, but he was impossible to miss. It was Hagrid. He was sitting in an open carriage pulled by a team of Belgian horses, and Madame Maxime was by his side. He beamed happily at the crowd that chanted his name. "Hagrid! Hagrid!" Hermione jumped up and down while waving her arms wildly, despairing of being able to get his attention.

"Hermione!" Somehow, he managed to look even happier when he saw her. She tried to get closer to the carriage, but the press of the crowd was too great. She pointed both hands at the bookstore, hoping he would understand. Then she peeled away from the crowd to seek a newspaper. A kiosk down the street sold the international version of France's premiere wizarding newspaper,' L'Indépendant Sorcier'. One could translate it into one's native language with a wand-tap.

Back at the shop, Hermione gazed at the photograph of Hagrid that took up half of the front page. He was wearing his best suit, the awful, hairy one, and had slicked his hair back with bear grease. 'Former Hogwarts Professor thwarts the forces of evil,' the headline said.

She settled back down on the wide window sill, Crookshanks on her lap.

'July 5 is a date that will go down in wizarding history. One brave man rallied the denizens of the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts to repel forces known to serve the Dark Lord. Rubeus Hagrid is a man well-known for his ability to communicate with and earn the affections and loyalties of a variety of creatures.

Hagrid had received warning of the impending attack from sources unknown. The plan was to 'cleanse' the Forbidden Forest: to kill everything that dwelled in it. Hagrid immediately set to work planning.

Troops sent by the British Ministry of Magic (which is notorious for being filled with supporters of the Dark Lord) embarked on a morning lightning raid, expecting an easy victory. They were met by a giant, an enormous three-headed dog, centaurs armed with bows and arrows, and a strange creature that Hagrid calls a blast-ended skrewt. Thestrals and hippogriffs defended from above, while nifflers literally undermined their attack.

The Forest's Acromantula colony, unfortunately, decided to join with the forces of darkness, but the unicorns soon took care of them. When they sensed that the trees that are their homes were threatened, the Forest's bowtruckles joined the battle, using their twig-like fingers to gouge the attackers' eyes. An enchanted Muggle car also fought. The climax of the battle was when Hogwarts' prized Whomping Willow uprooted itself. When they saw the famous tree walking toward them on its roots, swinging its limbs like whips, the Ministry's forces fled in panic.

That was when Olympe Maxime came with the flying carriage that belongs to the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, of which Maxime is the Headmistress. The carriage, which is far bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, was used to evacuate the Forbidden Forest. Thestrals and hippogriffs flew alongside the carriage to repel any attacks from Ministry forces, but the evacuation was completed without incident.

The evacuees have been relocated to various locations in France. Hagrid is now considered a fugitive by the British Ministry of Magic, but the wizarding community of France welcomes him as a hero.

Rebeus Hagrid and Olympe Maxime have announced their engagement.'

Crookshanks mewed and butted his enormous head against Hermione's chin, knocking the paper out of Hermione's hands. "I know, it's amazing, isn't it?" Hermione was smiling, the first time she'd actually done so since her husband had left.

The front door opened. M. Martin looked up as much of the store was cast into shadow. "_Extraordinary_!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. Hermione leapt to her feet, startling Crookshanks, who ran under the nearest bookcase. It was Hagrid, of course. She threw her arms around his waist as best she could, squealing happily.

"Why, as I live and breathe, it's the runaway Miss Hermione! But yer not a miss any more, are ye?" Hagrid picked her up as if she was a kitten so he could get a good look at her. "Married to a Malfoy, will wonders never cease? Ah, ye look radiant, ye do. Are ye gonna have a baby?"

Hermione gave him a horrified look. "No!"

Hagrid put her down. "Are ye sure?"

"YES! Well, fairly sure. Kind of."

"I'd get myself to a midwife, if I was ye. I'm usually not wrong about this. It's a gift."

Oh, that was bloody perfect. Hermione tried to keep her smile from wobbling.

"Would ye like ta have supper with Olympe and me? We're not leaving for Beauxbatons until tomorrow. We'd be happy ta treat ye."

"I'd like that."

"_Just go_." M. Martin flapped his hands dismissively at Hermione.

...

It was a lovely evening with Hagrid and his fiancee. It made Hermione feel less alone. But what he'd said about her having a baby... She couldn't get it off her mind, and she went to visit a midwife on Rue Chat Noir.

The midwife answered the door and glanced at the ring on Hermione's left hand. "_Ah. You suspect you are pregnant_?" The elderly woman chuckled at the look on Hermione's face. "_In times like these, it is common. Come in_._ I am Madame Hortense._"

The midwife's office was homey, with patchwork quilts on overstuffed chairs. Hermione sat down, and Madame Hortense drew her wand. She laid the tip on Hermione's lower belly and began to chant. A glowing thread formed, coming out of Hermion's stomach and floating in the air a foot above. It formed an image that looked like a raspberry. "_Wh-what is that_?"

The midwife chuckled. "_It's a baby. They don't look like much at this stage_."

The world began to spin. "_I'm... pregnant_?"

"_Yes_." The older woman clasped Hermione on the shoulder. "_You'll be fine. Just eat well, don't work too hard, and, whatever you do, dont Apparate unless your life is in danger. Apparating is very dangerous for unborn babies_."

Hermione just sat there, unmoving, unspeaking. The feelings that arose within her were too overwhelming.

Madame Hortense gave her a long, hard look. "_There are those who can... get rid of it_."

"_No. No. I_..." Hermione stood up and pulled coins from her pocket. "_What do I owe you_?"

"_Nothing for today. Just keep coming back_."

Hermione stumbled out of the midwife's office and into the sunlight. She was happy, she was sad; she wanted to cry, she wanted to laugh. But most of all, she didn't want to be alone.

...

Just to clarify, as there's been some confusion: the vicar gave Hermione a birth control potion, but she forgot to use it the first night she spent with Draco. HORMONES.


	9. Chapter 9

DRAMIONE

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, and I just play around in it for fun.

...

"Is wonderful! Our babies will play together!" Katya was ecstatic, throwing her arms around Hermione and then pressing her to share some fresh orange juice and Gruyère cheese. "For the baby," she insisted.

Hermione envied Katya's seemingly endless ability to be optimistic about everything. She'd told the Russian girl the news the moment she'd some back from the midwife. It felt a little odd, telling someone else before she told Draco, but she had to tell _someone_, and the big hug she'd gotten was welcome.

"When will you tell father?"

That was a good question. It didn't seem right to tell him by owl. If Dogweed let him have some time off mid-summer...

Hermione went out to buy two more copies of that day's L'Indépendant Sorcier and headed to the owlery to send copies of the article about the Battle of the Forbidden Forest to Harry and Draco. Back at her flat, she was exhausteded, close to nodding off by nine o'clock. She supposed it was because of the baby. As soon as she climbed into bed, she fell asleep and into a dream.

Hermione found herself in the room of a grand mansion. The room was dimly lit, though, with just a few candles glinting off of a crystal chandelier. Voldemort stood at the head of a long table, leering down at a squirming, squawking bundle in his arms. His red eyes glowed like lambent coals. "Oh, isn't it sweet? A Mudblood baby!," he said mockingly, "I ask you again, where is Harry Potter?"

"I don't know! Please, give her back to me," Hermione pleaded tearfully. She was down on her knees, sobbing hysterically in front of the throng of masked Death Eaters that sat at the table. Only laughter answered her hysterical begging.

The Dark Lord laughed and waved his wand. "_Crucio_!"

Hermione woke up with a strangled scream. Her heart pounded and she was soaked with sweat. The Dark Lord... the Dark Lord would hurt her baby. She sat up and pressed her hands to her face as she sobbed. "I can't have this baby. I can't have this baby," she whispered to herself as she rocked back and forth. The midwife knew where she should go. This was no world to bring a child into. Better that she never be born than to be tormented by Voldemort. She... she... It was a girl. Hermione just knew. She spent the rest of the night staring out her window, so unbelievably tired but unable to go back to sleep.

As dawn put the stars out, Hermione realized she could never bring herself to do what she'd been thinking of doing. If she could think only with cold, unfeeling rationality... but she couldn't. Whether the cause was pregnancy hormones, or being madly in love with the father, Hermione couldn't bring herself to end her pregnancy. Voldemort was across the channel, she told herself; he couldn't reach her. He couldn't reach her.

Two owls pecked at the window. Hermione opened the one she knew was from Harry first:

"I'm coming to see you for a little while this summer. There's someone we need to find, apparently. Ron says hey."

Harry had been getting increasingly cryptic in his letters. Thanks to Hermione, he now knew how deeply the Dark Lord's followers had penetrated the wizarding establishment of the United Kingdom. Hermone had no idea who 'we' referred to. Well, she'd find out soon enough.

As usual, Hermione saved Draco's letter for last. She knew what it would say. He loved her, he missed her, he wanted to be with her. Reading those words every morning was a sweet torture. She popped the seal:

"I am an idiot. I am a fool.

The first time a couple with glowing wedding bands came into Dogweed and Deathcap's, I thought that they were just especially brave. The second time, I took off my glove and showed them my ring and asked, 'Aren't you afraid to let people know that you're in a Shield Marriage?' They answered, 'Why?'

I sent an owl to my father. He wrote back that he lied. No one is targetting people in Shield Marriages. 'Perhaps someday they will,' he wrote, 'but for the present, Shield Marriages are only of interest to blackmailers. I sent that girl to France because I know the fickle nature of youth. Out of sight, out of mind. I'm sure you can barely remember why you were so attracted to her by now.'

After all this time, I should know better. My father has always lied to me. I shouldn't trust a thing that he says. But he is my father, and I love him, and I WANT to trust him. I wish I could stop loving him. He's brought my mother and me nothing but misery.

I'm glad you're there, though. You're so far away from me, and I miss you so badly, but you're safe. Once I'm done with my apprenticeship, I'll join you. Dogweed will give me a good reference and I'll find a job, perhaps someplace out in the country. You and I can ride out this war in peace and solitude. Let others fight it.

I love you, I want you, I need you,

Draco

P.S. Dogweed may give me some time off in a couple of weeks. You know where I'll be, if that happens."

Safe. Safe. Hermione wished that she felt safe. Vassily walked her to and from work most days at the insistence of Katya. The streets of Paris were free of Death Eaters, but there were other evil-doers about. It was a more prosaic, sordid sort of evil, that of men who wanted to use women and children in the basest manner possible. Unfortunately, the predators and the pimps didn't have anything that identified them clearly, the way the Dark mark identified the Death Eaters. Hermione was not going to tell Draco about any of this, though, not even about the man who'd followed her yesterday when she'd gone to get lunch and grabbed her by the hair, only letting go when Hermione had pointed her wand at his groin. But she knew she wouldn't be any better off back across the channel, where Lucius Malfoy was willing to do whatever he had to do to keep Draco and her apart. Three-quarters of European wizardry was under the sway of Voldemort and his followers, according to L'Indépendant Sorcier. Paris was as safe as it got.


	10. Chapter 10

After making lots of boo-boos last time (including getting Katya's name wrong), I got a beta-reader! Thank you, BrynnaBeth!

...

Hermione was in the back room of the book shop when Crookshanks started mewing and pawing at the doorjamb. She peered out at him. "What do you want, fuzzy-butt?" He performed the feline 'follow me' dance until she set down the grimoire she was mending and followed him out into the shop proper.

"May I help you?" M. Martin was asking a teenaged boy.

"I, ah, no parlayvoo Frenchy," the boy said.

"Goodness, Harry, you've grown a foot!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry, caught in an awkward stage, had grown upwards but not outwards. He still looked wonderful to Hermione, and she didn't mind how bony he was when she hugged him. "Yeah, I had to buy all new jeans because my shins were showing," he said. His hair flopped over his forehead, in need of a trim.

"How have you been, Hermione?" said a familiar voice. Dumbledore! There he was, dressed in slate-blue robes and bending down to scratch Crookshank's head. The cat showed his appreciation by stretching up, his front paws reaching the elderly man's waist.

After all the hugging was done, Hermione asked in a hopeful voice, "Are you two going to stay here where it's safer?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but we're here for just a little while. I'm trying to locate some people that might help Harry on a quest," the ex-headmaster said.

Hermione looked at Harry. "A quest?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't ask me. He is being all mysterious about things."

Hermione sucked in her breath; she'd just noticed that one of Dumbledore's hands was shrivelled up into a blackened claw. "What happened?"

"That's one of the things he's being so bloody mysterious about," Harry carped.

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "All will be revealed in good time."

Harry clutched at his hair and did a jig of annoyance. "I don't know if I can take much more of this. I think I might explode the next time he gives me that smile. Stop laughing at me, Hermione!" Harry ended his clowning. "By the way, the Ministry here told us we have to stay with you in your apartment. There aren't any rooms to spare for visitors."

...

Well, this was interesting. Dumbledore should have the bed, of course. One couldn't expect someone his age to sleep on the floor. But when they all went out for dinner with Hagrid and Maxime, the big lug just had to spill the beans about the baby, and Harry and Dumbledore had gotten all chivalrous. Dumbledore slept on the floor beside the bed, and Harry was actually under the bed, with just his large and remarkably hairy feet sticking out.

Hermione fell asleep to the sound of Dumbledore's rumbling snores.

...

Hermione was sitting on the stairs talking to Harry while Dumbledore bathed in privacy. Poor overworked Bon-Bon the house elf was not pleased at having two more people to fill tubs for. When Hermione'd had her turn this morning, the water had been ice-cold.

Katya came out of her flat. "Hermione! Good morning! How is baby? Who is friend?"

"This is Harry. Harry, Katya."

"Is day off for you? Picnic?"

Hermione laughed at Katya's enthusiasm. "Sorry, you'll have to wait until I get off work." It was nearly time to go to the book shop. Harry walked her there. It was nice knowing that she didn't have to rely on Vassily, and that Harry could even accompany her at lunch-time. Perhaps she could persuade Dumbledore that they should stay.

...

Harry sat in the book shop window petting Crookshanks and chatting to Hermione while she shelved books. "Ron and Ginny are good. I haven't told you about the twins, though. It was too long of a story for a letter. They opened their shop, and it was very successful, but they started working as... guerilla pranksters. When Umbridge gave a speech about blood purity at a meeting of the Daughters of Salazar, they released a swarm of bees. Fudge was giving a press conference about how I'm delusional and should be locked up in St. Mungo's, and they set his pants on fire. I know, it's funny, right? Molly didn't think so."

"I suppose not."

"The Ministry has started locking up certain magical creatures. Any unicorns that weren't airlifted from the Forbidden Forest were penned up, and I guess when you do that to a unicorn, it just slowly dies of sorrow. Well, Fred and George found out where they were-at Malfoy Manor."

"What?"

"Yeah. Your father-in-law was keeping them in stables. Fred and George snuck in and set them all free, and stole the Malfoy's white peacocks for good measure. Oh, and to get in, they destroyed this horrible talking gate with a face, too. Blew it to smithereens. Lucius was..."

"Livid."

"Yeah. He knows a creepy werewolf by the name of Fenrir Grayback, and he's got him hunting the twins. They had to abandon the shop. They're staying in Grimmauld Place now, but they still sneak out and do things. They stink-bombed a Ministry ball and did something to Borgin and Burkes that filled the entire shop with treacle."

Hermione laughed until her stomach hurt. "What happened to the peacocks?"

"They're at Grimmauld Place. Molly keeps threatening to cook them." Harry sobered. "She and Arthur had to move into Grimmauld Place. Arthur lost his job at the Ministry. Supposedly because he was incompetent, but lots of people are getting sacked right now, and it's rather clear that it's for... political reasons. Arthur and Molly had a loan they couldn't repay and Gringott's took the Burrow."

"No." Tears prickled at Hermione's eyes. "How awful. Molly must be grieving."

"But Sirius is happy to have all the company. He still doesn't go out much. The Ministry has to make a show of being on the side of right, so they'd still put him back in Azkaban if they caught him." Harry was quiet for a moment. "All of us... me, the Weasleys, the Lovegoods, we've been trying so hard to tell people that Voldemort's back, and that the Ministry is ever more on his side, but they think we're all mad. Except for Arthur. They just think he's bitter about being sacked. The Ministry shut down The Quibbler, and no seems to think there's anything wrong with that!" Harry slammed a fist down in the window sill, startling all the cats into flight. "Sorry." Harry turned and looked out the window. "What's that sound?"

It was the ominous rumble of an angry mob. Hermione cracked the front door open just enough to hear what people were shouting. "Molester! Pimp!" was what she heard. With a flick of her wand, she brought down the protective metal bars that M. Martin had just had installed, blocking the door and protecting the glass. "You probably don't want to see what's going to happen," she said to Harry as she lowered black-out curtains. "Justice gets a bit rough around here."

Harry was staring at her, his green eyes huge behind his glasses. "Are you safe here?"

"I'm not likely to have a mob howling after my blood, now, am I?"

"That's not an answer."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at the ceiling. "Russia is penning up Muggle-Borns like they're animals. There are rumors that a faction of dark wizards who oppose Voldemort are trying to release Gellert Grindelwald from Nurmengard in Germany. It's becoming a wizard's world war, Harry."


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione sat on the rickety fire-escape at the rear of her apartment building, reading the morning paper. The summer had grown unbearably hot and muggy, and she was trying to catch a hint of fresh air to settle her stomach. The story on the front page was about the American wizarding community finally joining the fight against Voldemort's forces. The Muggle government of the United States had ordered the U.S.M.O.M. to remain neutral, and had forbidden taking in refugees. But when Death Eaters had been apprehended in New York City and Los Angeles, the American wizarding community had gone into open rebellion against the Muggle government. "We will accept all refugees with open arms," the paper quoted a spokeswizard's saying.

America. All the way across the Atlantic from Voldemort and his followers. Hermione wondered how much money she and Draco would have to save up to be able to afford to go there. Surely they could find a nice place to raise their daughter; perhaps somewhere not too far from New York... The paper drooped in her hands as she lost herself in a little daydream about a cottage in a New England wizarding village, just big enough for a happy family of three. Or maybe four or five.

"_Hermione, what the hell is going on_?"

Hermione dropped the paper in surprise, and it sailed lazily down to the ground. "Draco?" Here she was, still in her pink shortie nightgown, which was getting too tight in the belly and bosom, and her hair was an uncombed mess. She probably had mascara crust under her eyes, too; Katya had insisted on giving her a make-over the night before. This was not how she wanted to look for a reunion with her husband. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"So you'd have had enough time to get _him_ out of your room?" Draco clutched the sides of the window that opened out onto the fire escape and glared at her.

Merlin, Draco was furious. His face was red, a vein was throbbing on his left temple, and his eyes were ablaze. "What are you so upset about?" Hermione demanded.

"Bloody Harry Potter is in your room in his bloody boxer shorts, and here you are in... that skimpy little thing! Have you been having a good time?" Tears sprang into his eyes. Hermione's mouth worked soundlessly. It was such absolute nonsense that she had no idea how to respond. "I'm going back home." He disappeared from the window.

"No, wait!" By the time Hermione climbed over the sill, Draco was nearly to the front stairs. "You don't understand! Don't you run away from me, Draco, I'm pregnant!"

Draco froze. "By _him_?"

"What is wrong with you? Of course not!"

Harry came out into the hall, fully dressed. "I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen."

"If there's nothing going on, why didn't you even tell me _he_ was here?" Draco spun around and jabbed a finger in Harry's direction.

"Because owls can be intercepted," Hermione snapped, "and the Ministry doesn't need to know where he is."

"But you don't have any clothes on!"

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly. "It's hot, Draco. And being unpleasantly overheated makes my morning sickness worse."

Draco swiped at his eyes. "There's really a baby?" Interesting. It was possible for him to get even paler.

"Not yet, but in a few months, yes, Draco, there will be a baby."

Draco just stared at her, his eyes so wide that there was white visible all around his pupils. He looked like he'd been hit with a Petrificus. This was not going as planned _at all_. Hermione had imagined something out of a romance novel-Draco grinning madly and pulling her into his arms, ecstatic over the news. Instead, he looked terrified and shockingly young. Being nine months older than he had never seemed an issue to Hermione before, but now she wondered if the age gap was big enough to be a problem. After all, weren't boys a year behind girls, developmentally?

At least, that's what the logical part of Hermione's mind was thinking. The emotional, irrational side (which was bigger than usual, due to pregnancy hormones) was making her eyes tear up. "Well, aren't you going to say something? You're going to be a father. Surely you must have some sort of opinion about that?" Hermione pressed her lips together hard, shocked at the snarky tone she'd just used.

Draco just turned around again and stumbled down the stairs. Hermione watched him, hugging herself like she was cold. At the door, Draco slammed right into Dumbledore, who was carrying a paper bag from the closest pâtisserie. He gaped at the elderly wizard for a few seconds, then ran out the door.

Hermione stood at the top of the stairs, watching Dumbledore climb up toward her. The smell from the paper bag hit her like a punch in the gut. She was going to be sick.

...

Draco didn't come back. Hermione trudged to the owlery, braving the crowded, summer-stinking street, and sent a message, wondering where it would be going to. How had things gone wrong so fast? It had taken less than ten minutes for her marriage to go into the toilet.

Sleep proved to be elusive that night. The next morning, Monsieur Martin told her to go home as soon she showed up for work, insisting that she looked ill. His heart was in the right place, but it gave Hermione far too much time to think about what an idiot she had been these past months. "I should have known better than to get involved with Draco," she said to Harry, who laid beside her. "It was so sweet at the beginning, but it's all gone completely pear-shaped. Hermione Jean Granger, single teen mother and drop-out. How's that for a happy ending? It's just as well my parents no longer know I exist."

She was sprawled on the grass in a park, not caring that she was getting green stains on her dress. It was ugly, anyway, with a too-high neckline and a hem that hit her legs at just the wrong place; she had bought it off a street vendor only because it was cheap, and loose enough to fit her for a few more months. She closed her eyes, listening to the tree above her go _shhhhhhh_ in the welcome breeze that had just started to move the muggy air around. She could also hear people talking in a dozen languages, crying children, bicycle bells, barking dogs. Just another day in the Rue Chat Noir.

Harry muttered darkly under his breath. Hermione could understand the occasional word; they were mostly profane. Being who he was, he had wanted to charge off and hunt Draco down, but Hermione had persuaded him not to. Whatever feelings of good will Harry might have gained toward Draco for his assistance at the Ministry were all gone now.

When the voices around the two of them got louder and more intense, Hermione sat up, wary. She and Harry exchanged glances. Another lynch mob? As crowded as the street got these days, Hermione feared being trampled by accident during one of those mob scenes. But, no, there wasn't that rumble of impending violence. Looking around, Hermione noticed people standing in small clumps, looking at newspapers and having vehement discussions.

Hermione got up and approached a couple that were speaking English. "What's happened?"

The woman, middle-aged and sharp-faced, spat, "Grindelwald has been freed! We're doomed!"

The man, who looked a bit like a springer spaniel, said, "That's just not so, Emmy! Now the Dark Lord has a worthy opponent."

"Yes, he'll defeat the Dark Lord, and then what? We'll be just as bad off, if not worse!"

Hermione left the couple to their squabble. There was no need to tell Harry; he had followed her. "I think you're right," he said, "it's a wizarding world war." Just like Draco yesterday, Harry suddenly looked very, very young. Hermione wondered if she seemed the same to others.

The mood on the street was volatile. The breeze had died, and the air was heavy and hard to breathe. Hermione grabbed Harry's tee shirt and gave it a tug. "Let's go home."

...

When Hermione opened the door to their room, Draco, who was sitting on the bed, jumped to his feet. "If you'd told me that Dumbledore was staying with you, too, I wouldn't have gotten so upset," he said petulantly.

"It's not like you gave anyone a chance to explain!" Harry yelled, "You just started shouting accusations! Hermione is like my sister!"

Dumbledore stood up from the chair that was wedged into one corner of the room. "Harry, I think we should leave these two alone. We'll come back in four hours." He put a hand on Harry's back to guide him out; Harry gave Hermione a look, mouthed "Grindelwald," and cut his eyes at Dumbledore.

Hermione and Draco stood staring at each other. Draco had grown at least an inch, and his hair was longer, down past his collar. Blue jeans and a tee shirt-Hermione had never seen him looking so Mugglish. The work Dogweed had him doing had put some muscle on him, and his shoulders had broadened. In other words, Draco had never looked better. Hermione found herself regretting the unflattering dress. "Where did you stay last night?" she asked him, noting the faint purple shadows under his eyes.

"I just walked around." Draco put his hands in his front jeans pockets and shifted from foot to foot. "What are we going to do with a baby? If you hadn't forgotten to use-"

"Don't you dare put this all on me! You are equally responsible! It's not as if I had to force you to-" Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

Draco took his hands out of his pocket and crossed his arms, looking out the window. Despite his size, he still looked absurdly young. "I was thinking. I have a cousin that can't have babies. We could give-"

"No, no, no, no, no, _no_! You are _unbelievable_!" The hormone-stoked rage went through her body like an electric shock; she shook her head, and her hair whipped, Medusa-like. "You do not tell a pregnant woman something like that. You. Do. _Not_." Her hands clenched into fists. Draco made a move, and Hermione threw herself against the door. "You're not running away from this again. You were man enough to make a baby with me, and now you have to be man enough to deal with the consequences. It's not fair to make me deal with this all by myself!" Tears clogged her throat. It wasn't just the baby she was talking about, it was everything. Hermione knew she was being unfair, herself; what she'd been going through was not Draco's fault. But, Merlin, she was tired of having to be strong, of having to be an adult.

Oh, no. She could feel herself going into full-on crying jag mode. Yes, of course that would make it all better, letting him see her red-faced and sobbing and snot-dripping. She turned around, pressing her face against the door and letting the misery out in a wail. A pair of strong arms wound around her, and a hand went to her stomach, gently curious. Draco put his face against the back of her neck. They stood there like that for a very long time, unspeaking.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, finally. His voice was hoarse. "Being married-that's fun. Like being boyfriend and girlfriend, but better. A baby is... scary."

"Yes, they're quite terrifying, babies. I heard a pack of them gummed an elderly woman to death the other day."

Draco's laugh puffed Hermione's hair out briefly. "You know what I mean. Having to take care of one." He was silent a moment. "Especially now, with everything that's going on." Hermione was going to tell him about her idea of going to the United States, but his hand traveled up, distracting her. "They're bigger!" He sounded entirely too gleeful about it.

"It's because of the baby, you pig." Hermione did her best to clean her face up before she turned around.

"That dress is atrocious. Maybe we could take it off." Draco tugged at her bodice. "By the way, I'm free the rest of the summer. Dogweed has a much younger wife, and the cow kept trying to lay hands on me. Dogweed took on Crabbe as an apprentice instead."

Hermione burst into giggles. "Think she'll be able to resist him?"

"She looks at him the way most people look at cat sick, so I'm thinking yes." Draco found the zipper in the side of the dress and tugged it down.

It would be three and one-quarter hours before Harry and Dumbledore came back. Hermione and Draco made the best of those one-hundred and ninety-five minutes.

...

When Harry and Dumbledore returned, the elderly wizard looked even older. "What does it mean for us, Grindelwald being free?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore just shook his head, his mouth tight. He went to sit down on the bed and collapsed. Harry stood awkwardly near the door, looking helpless. Draco pulled Hermione tightly to him again, as if he thought he could shield her that way. Seeing Dumbledore looking so defeated was terrifying.

Hermione knew she had to get them away.

...

"America? So far away! I will miss you too much," Katya said. She was painting Hermione's toe-nails hot pink; after couple of near-miscarriages, the Russian girl could no longer work as a beautician, and she liked to use Hermione to keep her skills sharp. Draco wrinkled his nose at the acetone stink and moved a little further away on the fire escape with the 'Help Wanted' section of the newspaper.

"You and Vassily should come with us, Katya," Hermione said.

Katya's usually merry eyes looked sad. "No money."

"We'll find a way. It's going to be much safer there in the US than here in Europe." Hermione rested against a railing, laying one hand over the slight bump of her belly.

Katya used a drying spell on Hermione's toes, and started applying a top coat. "I will tell Vassily. We will think about it."


	12. Chapter 12

The odd living arrangement worked, somehow. Harry was envious that Draco got to actually sleep in a bed, but it was how it had to be. Draco and Hermione were granted a certain amount of private time so they could be husband and wife, not just roommates. The summer drew towards its end. Hermione was starting to show a bit, and some of her clothes didn't fit well over her hard little baby-bump. Harry and Draco squabbled with each other, while they all fretted over Dumbledore. The elderly wizard was gone on mysterious errands most of the time, and when they did see him, he was very close-mouthed. His face had an uncharacteristic grimness to it that suggested that things were not going as he had planned.

It was a muggy August morning, and Hermione and Katya sat on the fire escape looking at a guidebook on wizarding communities in the United States. They both liked the look of a quaint little village located not far from Greenwich, Connecticut. Draco was still searching the paper for employment; jobs were getting hard to come by, especially for sixteen-year-old boys.

Vassily stuck his head out the window. "Malfoy, we can get work from Ministry! One hundred Galleons for three days!"

Draco lowered his paper. "That's not too bad. What do we have to do?"

"Is secret."

Hermione and Katya gave each other wary looks.

...

Hermione had not realized that 'three days' actually meant 'three days and nights'. She suspected that Draco and Vassily had known, and had decided not to share that information with their wives; Dumbledore was a bad influence, in some ways. Katya was an utter basket-case and was spending her nights sleeping fitfully next to Hermione, while Dumbledore took Katya's bed. Three days stretched into four, and then five, and Hermione started to feel panicky. She couldn't sleep, and she was snappish at work.

The sixth day seemed to go on forever.

She was woken in the middle of the night by the door creaking open. She lit the tip of her wand and saw Draco enter. He looked awful; his clothes were filthy, his hair was matted, and his faced was bruised. Hermione sat up so fast, her head spun. "What happened?"

"Vassily is back?" Katya said sleepily. Draco shook his head. "Where is Vassily?"

"I don't know," Draco said, his voice hoarse.

Katya instinctively looked at her wedding ring, which still glowed. Vassily was alive, of course; if he had been killed, Katya would have died in her sleep. The thought of waking up next to a dead body gave Hermione the chills. Hermione took Katya's hand. "I'm sure he'll be all right," she said. That was what people always said, of course.

...

Draco sat in the tub hugging his knees. He closed his eyes as Hermione dumped a pitcher of water over his head. There were black and blue marks all over his back, and the skin was broken in a few places. "The Ministry wanted spies. The Dark Lord and Grindelwald met in Belgium, and we were there. They both brought armies. I saw my father." He rested one cheek on his knees as he spoke slowly, tiredly. His voice was still hoarse, and prone to cracking. Hermione dabbed dittany on his wounds.

"Grindelwald spoke of them joining forces," Draco continued. "He cast some sort of glamour on himself. He looked-my age. They talked and talked and talked for days. So much talking. Potter was mentioned. So was Dumbledore. It's known that they're both here in Paris. Then Grindelwald knelt down before the Dark Lord, swearing his allegiance, and that's when Grindelwald's forces attacked. They knew that Vassily and I were watching the whole time, I think. We used cloaking spells, but they found us, anyway. Two of them grabbed me, two of them got Vassily. 'Give this message to the Ministry,' they said the whole time they were beating us."

"Merlin, Draco," Hermione murmured as she put her arms around him. What was the Ministry thinking, sending two boys who were about to be fathers on such a mission? There were so many refugees in Rue Chat Noir these days that people were starting to regard them as expendable, unfortunately. "Who won?" she asked, not sure which answer would be better.

"I don't know. The men that beat me Apparated me to a woods just outside Paris when they were done with me."

"Did you get the hundred Galleons?" Hermione asked. It seemed like a cold-hearted question to ask, but they had to take care of Katya until-if-Vassily returned.

"Yes. And Katya's money, too

Hermione did the calculations in her head. The costs of bringing them all to America... Draco, Harry, Vassily, and Dumbledore could travel by port-key, but pregnant woman had to either travel Muggle-style or wait until they gave birth, and Hermione didn't want to wait that long. How many Galleons would be enough for two airplane tickets? Would they be able to find work in the States? How much would a mid-wife's services there cost? How much would they have to pay for a place to live that would be appropriate for raising a family?

Draco stood up and Hermione draped a cheap, rough towel around him. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her, getting her clothes damp. This was the part of marriage that girls day-dreamed about, the hugs and the kisses and one's dress unbuttoned and the bed. Hermione's mind shut off for a while, but, when Draco fell into a light doze beside her, she planned and speculated and counted on her fingers. This is what being a wife and mother really is, isn't it? she thought to herself.

...

Katya had displayed a superstitious side before, but her anxiety over Vassily's absence made it worse. Every day, she bought trinkets from street vendors that were supposed to bring good luck, money, health, safety: a mangy-looking rabbit's foot, 'blessed' dice, a horse shoe, Galleons inscribed with prayers. She even bought three more of the necklaces with the ugly wooden faces, insisting that the ones she had bought earlier that summer were no longer effective. "One for you, one for Draco," she insisted, "To keep you safe from bad men."

Dumbledore had bought a crystal ball. Scrying was an inexact science at best, but still he spent hours staring into the depths of the orb. He never said what he was looking for, but Hermione was sure that he was looking for an answer to the question on everyone's mind: who had won, Grindelwald or Voldemort? Or had they joined forces, after all?

It was a stormy day, and everyone was stuck inside. Hermione tried to read a book while Harry and Draco bickered over the ownership of a pair of jeans. Hermione was just getting ready to knock the two boys' heads together when she felt an odd tickle in her stomach. The boys fell silent when they saw her rub her belly. "Are you all right?" Draco asked.

Hermione smiled. "I'm fine. I felt the baby move."

Harry made a gagging noise when Draco slid behind Hermione and gave her a kiss on the neck. "You're just jealous that you don't have a girlfriend, Potter," Draco said smugly.

"You're married to Hermione. Yuck!"

"Shut up, Harry!" Hermione laughed and threw threw a pillow at Harry.

A loud crack followed by a scream from Katya's flat made the three teens jump. They peeked through the open door to see the crystal ball on the floor, split in two. Dumbledore, who was sitting on the bed next to a pale Katya, looked rueful. "I'm sorry. It rolled off my lap. I didn't mean to startle anyone."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, "Did you see something?"

The elderly man shook his head. "It was too vague and cloudy. It's not worth worrying about."

These days, Hermione wanted to scream every time Dumbledore was cryptic. She was sure that there was a lot that he wasn't telling them. But, short of obtaining Veritaserum, there was no way to get him to tell them a thing.


	13. Chapter 13

It was early fall, and there was still no word of Vassily. Katya seemed to be wasting away right before Hermione's eyes. Everything about her got smaller except her belly. She seemed to be running purely on nervous energy, her eyes too bright in her head as she tore around the neighborhood, sending off dozens of owls a day and harassing Ministry workers. When she got tired out, she borrowed Dumbledore's replacement crystal ball and tried scrying.

It was a relief when Katya finally wanted to have a picnic day-trip again; it was a return to her old self. A round trip to Fontainebleau for five people ate into their savings, but, knowing it was a place Katya loved, Hermione happily paid for it.

Before they got on the train, Katya checked that Hermione and Draco were wearing the amulets she had bought them. She patted the pockets of her robes, making sure that she still had her prayer coin and her rabbit's foot and the four-leaf clover encased in a little cube of glass that she had just gotten the day before. Once on the train, she chattered non-stop, twisting her hands as they rested atop the bulge of her belly. Dumbledore sat silently beside her, looking odd and stiff in Mugglish clothing.

Before her near-miscarriages, Katya had spent hours tramping around the forest of Fontainebleau with her husband. After the group got off a bus from the train station, Katya led them to her favorite place, a spot that managed to be private without being all that far from houses and shops and other human-made things. It screened by thick stands of oak and pine and weathered sandstone outcroppings. There were boulders of just the right height to be sat on. The picnic was simple fare, cheese and crusty bread and and some precious butterbeer, which was hard to find in France.

"Are we going to tramp around a bit now?" Hermione asked when the food was gone.

"I am tired," Katya said.

"I could nap," Draco said, stretching out on a boulder, tee shirt riding up above the waistband of his jeans. It was an unseasonably warm day, and, feeling a bit torpid herself, Hermione laid next to her husband, using her jacket for a pillow. Harry and Dumbledore started yawning. Katya didn't seem to be able to relax. She tried to settle herself on a pile of leaves that had been against the side of a boulder, but she kept fidgeting, making rustling sounds.

Hermione did her best to keep her eyes open, but her lids felt so heavy. The last thing she saw before she fell asleep was dappled sunlight filtering through her eyelashes.

A moment of vertigo woke her. She was jerked up into the air, and her body slammed against someone's back. Adrenaline battled lethargy as she felt bonds twining around her body. Blinking hard, she saw a greasy-haired man with a wand pointed at her. He leered, revealing rotten teeth. "Got 'em," he said with satisfaction.

"What are you doing?" Katya shrilled. "This is not what I agreed to! Where is my husband? You _promised_!"

"_Mutus_!" someone barked, and Katya went silent. Hermione felt something being pushed into her wand pocket, and something else being withdrawn.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco demanded in his best Malfoy-arrogant voice.

"Getting us a reward for your two friends, there," Rotten Teeth replied.

Harry swore. "Yeah, that's the Potter, boy, all right," a voice said.

Hands roamed. Hermione grimaced as they lingered unnecessarily and squeezed too hard before finally locating her wand. Or, rather, Dumbledore's wand. It was very distinctive with its carvings that resembled clusters of elder berries. A tall man that resembled a scarecrow entered Hermione's view. "Which one belongs to the old man?" Rotten Teeth handed him Hermione's wand. "Good. We can get a lot of money for this from the right person. A wizard with the proper skills can learn a lot from a powerful wizard's wand, I hear."

"What should we do with the other wands?" another man asked.

"Keep them, if you want. You can sell them for a few Galleons on the black market," the Scarecrow said.

Hermione felt the impact of a paralyzing spell. Her bonds disappeared, and she fell sideways to the ground. Rotten Teeth's boots were right in front of her face. "How we going to split the reward money?" she heard a new voice say.

There was an explosion, the noise coming a ways off in the woods. A split-second later, there was a _crack _of Apparition. Six men all began swearing at once. "Leave it to bloody McPherson to make off with the two valuable ones!" someone exclaimed.

"He had it planned all along," Rotten Teeth said in disgust. "I will _kill_ him."

"All this for nothing," said a a froggy, bass voice.

Rotten Teeth kicked at Hermione's hands. "Looks like all three have Shield Marriage rings on. Maybe we could blackmail a Pureblood family?" He bent down, his foul breath washing over Hermione. "Is that blond ponce your husband, girlie?" When Hermione didn't speak, he gave her a kick in the chest, not too hard. "I know you can whisper. Tell." Hermione didn't say anything. Her mind was racing, trying to assess the situation and come up with the best plan of action. "Tell me, or I'll kick that baby right out of you."

"She's my wife!" Draco managed to say in a strangled whisper-shout.

"Thank you, ponce. Well, they're only useful in matched pairs. _Avada kedavra_."

Katya let out a squeak that cut off abruptly. Hermione couldn't stop herself from whimpering.

"The boy looks awfully familiar to me. If that's not Lucius Malfoy's son, I'm the Queen," the froggy voice said.

Rotten Teeth cackled. "A rich Death-Eater's son in a Shield Marriage? I'm going to be rich."

"You mean _we're _going to be rich, don't you?" said the frog.

That's when the fighting started. Hermione heard the first punch being thrown, followed by a stream of foul epithets, choking sounds, and a squeal. A body hit the ground.

As the six men brawled, Hermione tested her ability to move, subtly flexing her limbs. She was reassured by a fluttering in her stomach; she had been worried that the paralyzing spell would hurt the baby. She moved her eyes as far as she could in every direction, then slowly turned her head. The snatchers were in a clump, some on the ground and some still on their feet. They cursed and grunted and punched and kicked and rolled. Something long and thin flew out of a pocket, rolling within two feet of Hermione. Slowly, slowly she inched toward it. Dumbledore's wand.

The instant she wrapped her hand around it, she knew it wouldn't be much use to her. She could feel contempt radiating from it, and displeasure at being held by such an inexperienced witch. But Dumbledore must have given it to her for a reason, so she didn't drop it.

"Come on. Don't look at Katya," Draco whispered in her ear. The two of them crept on their hands and knees, heading for where the trees were thickest. Hermione spared a quick glance for her friend and betrayer; Katya looked too small, just a heap of cloth and thin limbs. Draco reached over and put a hand on Hermione's head, forcing her to look away. "Let's go, Hermione." She knew that houses and people weren't that far away-but how to know what direction to go in?

"_They're getting away_!"

The two were up on their feet in an instant. Draco took Hermione's hand and they ran as fast as they could, swerving around trees and boulders. Draco seemed to be trying to lead her in a straight line, but they saw Rotten Teeth in front of them; they must have unwittingly circled around. They dodged off to the side and ran some more. They stopped behind a thick, mossy old oak. Hermione panted and held her aching sides. They could hear rough shouts coming from every direction. "We're surrounded," she said.

Draco's eyes were huge and rapidly filling with tears. "I'm so sorry. Everything I thought that would make you safer... You'd have been better off if I had just stayed away from you in the first place."

"It's not your fault," she murmured, resting her head on his chest. "There's no place safe any more. Wherever we go, there's war."

Draco pulled the wand from her pocket, grimacing at the feel of it; it obviously didn't like him much better than it liked Hermione. "This is useless to us."

"Hide it."

"Why?"

"Just a hunch. Do it."

The oak tree had a hole in it where it had lost a limb. It had a lean to it and Draco was able to scale it high enough to toss the wand in the hole. He climbed back down and kissed Hermione on top of her head. "Now what?"

They walked. There was no point in running, with snatchers on every side. Hermione was dripping sweat from fear and the heat, and starting to feel dizzy. Draco had just put an arm around her to support her when two snatchers appeared in front of them, wands out. The two teens raised their arms in weary surrender.


	14. Chapter 14

Warning: there is a near-miscarriage in this chapter.

...

Hermione and Draco were bound together so tightly that their limbs were starting to go numb, and their struggling did nothing to loosen the knots. Their captors were fewer than they were before, not all of them having survived the brawl. They sat around a roaring fire, roasting rabbits they had Stunned and washing them down with firewhiskey, while the captives shivered in the chilly night air listening to their empty stomachs rumble. The snatchers seemed to be in no hurry to get their blackmail money. Hermione leaned her head back so it rested against her husband and tried to quiet her mind.

She sniffled a bit as she remembered Katya... and her betrayal. And her foolishness. Hermione couldn't stop obsessing over how the girl she had thought was her friend had sold out Harry and Dumbledore to get her husband back, dealing with treacherous, murderous scum. Katya should have known better! She had actually thought that the amulets that she, Hermione, and Draco wore would protect them. Hermione wanted to hex every purveyor of useless, superstitious nonsense in Rue Chat Noir. Four leaf clovers, lucky coins, rabbits' feet... Perhaps it was understandable that Muggles might cling to such things, having no magic of their own, but witches and wizards with their wands and spells and potions should have no need. But Katya was a frail soul, too fragile for the sort of world she had found herself living in. And, in the end, it had killed her. And Vassily, and the baby. Hermione did her best to choke back a sob.

_It's over. They're all gone. Think about the living: your and your husband, Harry and Dumbledore_, she told herself. Her mind worked on what little information she was able to glean. The snatchers were all British; did that mean that they were working for Voldemort? The firewhiskey should have loosened their tongues, but all she heard from them were rather disgusting stories about witches they had known. How could she plot and plan with nothing to work with?

Rotten Teeth finished a bottle and threw it in the fire, along with the bones of his meal. He pulled another bottle from his filthy jacket. "Who wants the last of the whiskey?" He rolled it toward the other men.

"I'll take it!"

"You've got to share!"

"Says who?"

As the other three men started scrapping, Rotten Teeth wrapped an arm around Hermione and Draco, digging his fingers cruelly into the flesh of her shoulder. His stench of sweat and old blood filled her nostrils as he Apparated them away. The place they landed in looked very much like where they had come from-oak trees and boulders just barely lit by the quarter-moon.

"Who's there?" demanded a rough voice. A man darted out from behind a gnarled tree far faster and more gracefully than he should have been able to, given his bulk. He was not fat, but massive, with a barrel chest and thick shoulders. There was a beastliness to him, and not just because of his musky stink. Draco was facing the other way and could not see the man, but he sucked in his breath at the sound of his voice. The man was on Rotten Teeth in seconds, pinning him against a tree by the throat.

"It's me, idiot," Rotten Teeth rasped out. "I thought dogs recognized humans by smell."

The huge man grinned, exposing wicked yellow fangs. "I'm tired of you, Rathman." He threw the man down on the ground, kicking him hard in the rump with one enormous foot. Rathman writhed in pain, making the leaves on the forest floor crunch, as the beast-man inspected the captives. He grabbed a handful of Hermione's hair and sniffed, then grimaced. "I don't like ones that are with pup. It taints the meat." He spun them effortlessly. "Why, young Master Draco, how lovely to see you again!"

The way the man said those words sent chills up Hermione's spine. She felt Draco stiffen against her back; he jerked his head hard enough to crack his skull against hers.

"Don't touch me! My father-"

"Isn't here. Oh, the two of you are married. Isn't that sweet. And a Shield Marriage, at that." The man let out a deep, ominous chuckle, and Draco made a choked-sounding protest.

That was when Hermione's lower belly cramped up hard enough to make her flinch. A second spasm wrung a whimper from her. "What's wrong with you?" the man demanded as he spun them back around. He glared at Hermione, his nostrils twitching. "Fresh blood. Stupid Rathman doesn't know you don't Apparate one that's in a family way."

Hermione was paralyzed a split second before the ropes vanished. She found herself levitated into the air. She hadn't noticed the man casting the spells; whoever he was, he was a formidable Dark Wizard, as well as, she guessed, a werewolf. The man began to stride through the forest with Hermione floating helpless behind him. Every so often, Draco bumped up against her. She couldn't turn her head, but she could move her eyes enough to catch glimpses of her husband: a hand, a knee, and, once, his face, set in utter misery. She saw his amulet snag on a branch and get left behind like the rubbish that it was. Her abdomen still cramped, and she felt cold where the blood had seeped through her jeans.

The nightmare trip seemed to go on forever, but, finally, they came to a clearing, and Hermione was lowered to the ground. The man lifted his wand and a puff of black smoke issued from it, forming a tight ball and zooming off. Fifteen minutes later, soft, rustling footsteps approached.

"What is it, Fenrir?" snapped Lucius Malfoy.

"I've got a present for you."

There was a gasp. "What have you done to him?"

"The boy is fine. His little wifey, on the other hand, is losing their baby."

"And you just let them sit here?" Hermione found herself being lifted into the air again. "Women can die from that if not properly taken care of, and if she dies, so does he! Stand up, son. You will walk."

"The girl's a Mudblood, isn't she? That's the only reason for a Shield Marriage, right? To keep you from killing her?"

"What do you want, Fenrir?" A cool hand took Hermione's wrist and guided her. She could see Lucius' hair glowing under the moonlight if she moved her eyes as far as she could. Another hand rested on her shoulder, occasionally stroking her; it had to be Draco.

"That cache of Galleons in your cottage."

"All of them? What am I and my family to live on?"

"Robbery and pillage, like the rest of us."

Lucius let out a few obscenities. "Fine. That's about two thousand Galleons. Don't expect any more than that. That cottage there, Draco, with the trellis in front. Quietly, now. We don't want anyone else to know what's going on."

Warm light spilled into the night. "Draco? What's this?" a woman said.

"She's losing the baby, Mother," he said, his voice panicky.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "That Muggle-Born you married is pregnant? Bella! Get me a bowl of warm water, a washcloth, and my herbs that are wrapped in the red paper."

"I'm not a house elf!"

"Just do it, sister dear!"

Hermione closed her eyes, tensing against the pain in her belly. She opened them again when she was lowered onto a feather mattress. She was no longer paralyzed, but was too enervated to move. A blonde woman that Hermione recognized as Draco's mother pulled off her shoes, then efficiently peeled her clothes off with the aid of her wand. Draco sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

A dark-haired woman came into the room, carrying a large bowl and a small towel. Hermione recognized her face from Ministry posters: she was Bellatrix Lestrange, a very dangerous fugitive. She had known before that Bellatrix was Draco's aunt, but she had never expected to be in the same room with her, especially while in such a vulnerable state. The woman was pretty in a ravaged sort of way, but her eyes were demented. She set the bowl on a bedside table and leered at Hermione.

"Where are my herbs?" Narcissa demanded. "She could lose this baby any minute now!"

"Don't you think it would be for the best, Cissy? What would our Lord do if he knew you had a Mudblood grandchild?"

"It's the child of my son!"

Bellatrix shrugged. "I wouldn't know of these maternal feelings. I was denied the chance to be a mother." The two women glared at one another. Even in the state she was in, Hermione could feel the tension between the sisters. She glanced at Draco; he was looking back and forth between the two women with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Get. The. Herbs."

"How do you even know that it's really his child? She could have been with half the boys in Hogwarts."

Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed. "You don't think I had the girl that my son eloped with investigated? I did, and she's nothing like you," she spat.

"Fine," Bellatrix said sulkily. When she returned with a packet of red paper, Narcissa unfolded it and dumped the contents into the water. She dunked the towel into the water, wrung it out, then began to chant as she slowly, gently ran the cloth all over Hermione, starting at her neck. Narcissa's voice was soothing, the words of the chant hypnotic. Hermione's eyes grew heavy, and she felt oddly buoyant, as if her connection to her body was loosening. Her pain was far away as she let herself fall into the dark.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione emerged from the depths of sleep gradually. The bed she was in felt odd; it was so roomy, and the pillows were soft and plump. Where was she? Was she still dreaming? Her eyes fluttered open.

"You're awake!" Draco's face hovered above her, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep. That was when it all came back to her. Feeling panicked, she groped at her stomach; the baby was still there. "She's fine," Draco said. "My mother saved her." Tears of relief slid down Hermione's temples and into her hairline. "Can you sit up? You're supposed to drink this tonic as soon as you wake up. It'll strengthen you and the baby." Draco helped her up, tucking pillows behind her, then sat on the bed beside her.

The room was on the small side, but lovely. Night darkness filtered through the eyelet curtains. The walls were the color of lemon sherbet; lighter squares and rectangles showed where pictures had once hung. Hermione wondered what had happened to the people in those pictures. She had a feeling that they had not willingly given up their home.

Sitting on a delicate, white-painted chair was a girl of about fourteen who had the Malfoy coloring. The white-blond hair and pale eyes made Draco and his father seem more vivid than most other people, but this girl just looked washed out. She was watching Hermione nervously with hooded eyes. After drinking a bitter draught from a mug that Draco held to her lips, Hermione whispered, "Who is she?"

Draco looked grim. "My sister."

Hermione jerked forward to look at the girl more closely, ignoring the dizziness that her sudden motion caused. The girl dropped her gaze to the floor. "You never told me you-"

"I didn't know!" Draco snapped, making both Hermione and the other girl start. He put a hand over his eyes. "Sorry. I've been a little... Blanche, could you leave us alone for a while?" The girl got up and scurried out of the room. Draco took Hermione's hand. "It's been a bloody family nightmare."

"Where has she been all this time?"

"She was freed from the Ministry shortly before the Dark Lord tricked Potter into thinking that Sirius Black was in danger. Remember the room that you and I were in that night, the one with all the beds?"

"She lived there?"

"All of her life. She was taken from my aunt shortly after she was born. They said she was dead." Draco didn't realize that he was squeezing her hand a little too hard.

"Your... aunt?"

Draco exploded up off of the bed and kicked the chair that Blanche had been sitting in, sending it into the wall and knocking two of the legs off. That told Hermione everything she needed to know. She couldn't even begin to come up with the right words for this situation. He stood with his head down, breathing hard. It was obvious that he was working hard at controlling himself by the way his hands were balling up. "I hate my father. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him."

"I'm... sorry," Hermione said feebly.

"Could we talk about this later?" Draco turned his head toward her. His eyes were a little too shiny.

"Sure. I'm kind of tired, anyway."

Without speaking, Draco laid on the bed beside her, on top of the covers. There was so much for Hermione to think about, so much to be learned, but her mind shut down out of exhaustion. As Draco draped an arm across her, she sank again in the soft, comfortable dark.

...

"Ah. You're awake again." Hermione had been woken by the sound of brisk footsteps. Her mother-in-law was pushing the curtains open, letting in late-morning sunshine. "You'll still be a bit wobbly, I expect. The baby had to consume a bit of you to survive. It's a tricky bit of women's magic, but it worked." Another mugful of the bitter tonic was held up to Hermione's lips and she swallowed it all immediately. Narcissa's usually pinched-looking face loosened into what was nearly a smile. "Good girl."

A melodic whistling started; Hermione tried to pinpoint the direction of origin, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. Narcissa cursed under her breath and pulled the curtains shut again. Draco came into the room. "Mother?"

"The two of you will stay in here and be utterly silent. Do not move. Do not whisper. Do you understand?" Narcissa's eyes were wide, with a wildness to them that made her resemble her sister.

"Yes, Mother," Draco said. As soon as Narcissa left the room, shutting the door securely behind her, Hermione tried to ask what was going on but Draco put a hand over her mouth and gave her an imploring look. In the silence, it was easy for Hermione to hear a door open.

"My lord," Lucius' voice said.

"How gracious of you to receive my unexpected visit, Lucius. Though I suppose the alarm that went off when I approached was notice enough." The hair stood up on Hermione's head. That insinuating, oily voice... It was Voldemort, she was sure of it. Her suspicions were confirmed by a glance at Draco- his eyes were squeezed shut and he was green around the mouth. He wrapped his hands around hers.

Lucius made a nervous sound. Hermione supposed it was meant to be a polite laugh. "One can never be too careful, my lord."

"True, especially with so many traitors around. You're not thinking of abandoning me for Grindelwald, are you?"

"Of course not, my lord!" Lucius said.

"I would turn in any traitors to you myself," Bellatrix said, "even if they were my own flesh and blood."

"Where is the girl?" Voldemort asked, and Hermione's stomach roiled in alarm.

"Blanche is still making herself pretty for you, my lord," replied Bellatrix. Hermione hated herself for the relief that washed over her. Another door creaked open. "Come on out, dear. It's not nice to make our lord wait." Blanche said something too faint for Hermione to hear. "_Be a good girl now! You're not too big for a whipping_!" Hermione had to bite her lips to keep silent. What a vile woman this Bellatrix was!

"Come here, pretty little one. I know you'll be good for me. Just sit here next to me," Voldemort cajoled.

There were rustlings and chair-scrapings, and then it began. The voice was inhuman, sounding more like something produced by the slow grinding of rocks than by a larynx. "You disturb us again so soon?" The sentence echoed strangely.

"I beg your forgiveness. It's a matter of some urgency." It was obvious that acting humble was difficult for Voldemort. "Hostile forces will march on us soon. I beg your assistance."

"Why should we care about your trivial affairs? Insects, that's all you are to us."

"But you've said before that we amuse you. Have you ever seen a human war before? It would be a novelty for you."

"We have seen many wars, some with humans. We are not interested at the moment. We have other things to amuse us."

"Could you at least share some of your power again? What you gave me the last time was spent in the last battle." Frustration was creeping into the Dark Lord's voice.

"You are greedy. Good-bye." _Bye-bye-eye-eye-eye _reverberated through the villa for a full minute.

There was a dead silence for a very long time. It was broken by an angry-sounding hiss. "I'm sorry for my daughter's stubbornness, my lord! I'll beat-" Bellatrix let out a blood-curdling scream.

"It is not _your daughter_, you stupid woman. Blanche is but a vessel, and a fragile one. If you harm her, you will deeply regret it." Voldemort didn't raise his voice, but his anger was still bone-chilling. "I will take my leave now. Lucius, Bellatrix, you will join me tonight at dinner." A door opened and closed.

After a few minutes, Narcissa came into the bedroom. "It's safe now."

Hermione had not realized that her entire body had gone rigid. She had to force it to relax. Draco let go of her hands and rubbed his eyes. "What's going on?" she asked him, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's a very long story."


	16. Chapter 16

I know, it's short.

...

Hermione was beyond exhausted, but she knew she would not be able to sleep until she had an explanation. "Please tell me now," she demanded.

Draco was still a bit greenish-looking. He lowered his hands from his face and inhaled deeply. "She's a Star-Speaker."

"That doesn't really clarify things."

Draco took one of her hands and started petting it, but his eyes were far away. "Remember when we were at the Department of Mysteries, and that room with all the beds? I called it the Star-Speaker Room."

Hermione racked her brain. So much had happened that night. "Not really."

"Well, Blanche used to live in that room. All by herself. My aunt Bella was... was pregnant when she was sentenced to Azkaban, and when she gave birth, they took the baby away and told her it had died."

Hermione found herself squeezing Draco's hand too hard. It was too horrible to think about, having one's baby stolen like that. "Blanche... she's your sister?"

Draco's eyes misted up. "Yeah. My father and my aunt-" He snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip.

"Sorry," Hermione whispered. She felt so helpless as she watched his eyes overflow with tears. It was a situation she couldn't imagine having to deal with. Her parents would never have...

"Even when you used Potter's cloak of invisibility to sneak into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, you wouldn't have learned about Star-Speakers." Even as he wiped away tears, he gave her an amused look. "Yeah, I know you did that. Anyway, Star-Speakers are a Malfoy family secret. We thought they had died out. You know how we were told in school that no actual witches were burned during the witch burnings? That wasn't completely true. There were Malfoys that were burned because they were Star-Speakers." Draco stared at the shuttered window for a few silent moments.

"And a Star-Speaker is...?" Hermione asked softly

"A witch that can channel... well, we don't know what they are, exactly. Some sort of entity. They think that humans are just amusing animals, so I guess that they're a lot more advanced than we are. They_ know _things. Some people think that all magic was learned through Star-Speakers. The thing is, the entities burn the magic right out of the witches they use. So a Star-Speaker is as helpless as a squib, but still dangerous, because you never know when one of the entities is going to..." Draco shook his head. "We thought that the Star-Speakers had all died out of our bloodline, killed off by Muggles. If you want to know why Malfoys hate Muggles, that's why."

The pause that followed was welcome. There was a lot for Hermione to digest. "So, the Dark Lord wants to use Blanche to... learn things. And gain power?"

"Of course." Draco puffed out his cheeks and slowly exhaled. "Grindelwald doesn't have a Star-Speaker. It's one of the Dark Lord's few advantages. The thing is, Star-Speakers are only human. Every time the entities speak through them, it uses them up a little. They don't live long." He went silent again, staring at the covered window.

_Merlin_. Could her baby possibly be one of these Star-Speakers? Hermione remembered _that voice_, and tried to imagine it coming through frail, petite Blanche. "And the Ministry had Blanche because...?"

"Because Star-Speakers can be dangerous. They can't help themselves. And because... the Ministry wanted to learn things from her, I think."

"Did-did they know what she was as soon as she was born?" Hermione laid a hand on her stomach.

"Yeah. Someone knew. Star-Speakers can speak as soon as they're born. Not they, themselves, but the entities. They like to test out their new toys, I guess." The way Draco gripped her hand was beginning to be painful, but Hermione didn't protest or try to pull her hand away. "Anyway, the Dark Lord knows what a rare prize he has in Blanche, and he wants to- wants to-" Draco's mouth curled down at the corners. "Breed her like an animal. He's going to marry her off to Crabbe, even though she's just..."

"She's younger than us," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah. And, well, Vince getting married? But the Crabbes are our cousins on both my parents' sides, so they've got Star-Speakers in their bloodline and-" Draco let go of her hand, lifting his arms and gesticulating, unable to come up with words. "And... and..." His voice faded.

"Tell me." Hermione knew she wouldn't like what she was going to hear, but she _needed to know_.

"The Greengrasses are our cousins, too. You know, Daphne and Astoria. On my father's side."

"And?"

"The Dark Lord says that as soon as I'm found, I'm to be married off to one of them to make babies." His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "Like we're pedigreed dogs!"

"He can't- he can't know you're here," Hermione said. She felt stupid saying such an obvious thing, but her mind was too full of new information to think efficiently.

"Not yet, he doesn't." Draco got up off the bed and started pacing. "But do you think we can hide right under his nose for long? Someone will tell. Probably my bloody aunt."


	17. Chapter 17

There was a Malfoy family 'discussion,' and it raged on for what seemed like days. Narcissa begged, Lucius threatened, but Draco refused to go back to Paris without Hermione. "She has to stay here," he shouted, "and I'm staying with her! She's my _wife_!"

"You're a child!" his father yelled back.

"The Dark Lord doesn't think so! he thinks I'm old enough to breed like a bloody stud horse-"

The crack made Hermione wince. She didn't understand why Lucius bothered slapping Draco any more; it was obvious it didn't accomplish anything beyond leaving a perfect red handprint on his face.

"I should summon the Dark Lord right now!" It was Bellatrix's nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. "You're supposed to be his faithful servants. You should be happy to give your son to him."

"Shut your mouth, Bella," Narcissa hissed.

At first, Hermione had been confined to the bedroom. She felt alright, but Narcissa didn't want her out of bed- "Just in case," she had said. But Hermione couldn't take the boredom. There were only a few books in the room, and they were for younger readers. They were in French, though, which let her know that she was still in France. Or perhaps Switzerland. Or Belgium. Or Canada. Anyway, she read all the books in less than an hour. Blanche had been ordered to sit with her, but the pale girl never spoke. When Hermione asked her questions, it just made her turn a funny shade of red and start rocking back and forth. The girl spent most of her time staring into space and sucking on her hair.

With nothing to do but stare out the window and try to ignore Blanche's tuneless humming, Hermione found herself thinking far too much. And crying until her head hurt. She was frightened and lonely and in mourning and so worried about Harry and Dumbledore. _I'm hurting myself and my baby far more by laying here and brooding than I would by being up and about_, she told herself. She pushed herself off the bed and opened the door a crack. The Malfoys were so intent on their arguing that she was sure they wouldn't see her. "Take me to the kitchen, Blanche."

Blanche got up from the stool she was crouched on and silently led Hermione. She was barefoot and wearing a dress that was far too big, and her legs were so skinny. They skirted along the edge of the main room of the villa, completely ignored. Draco had his back to Hermione. She noticed that the rear pocket of his jeans had a distinctive wear pattern; it was where Harry had stowed his invisibility cloak. So Harry had been right when he accused Draco of taking his clothes.

The kitchen was small, painted white and delft blue. Without being told, Blanche started heating water for tea. Hermione sat at the kitchen table and picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Dumbledore and Harry were wanted for plotting terrorist acts together. Umbridge was instituting necessary reforms at Hogwarts. Yes, portkeys to the United States were forbidden, and all routes to France were tightly guarded, but only to keep dangerous fugitives from escaping. Rumors that Grindelwald was still alive were nonsense, and anyone repeating them would be punished for spreading needless panic. Muggle-Borns were not to panic- the Muggle-Born Registry Act was for their protection. The vandalism that destroyed several shops in Diagon Alley was the work of young hooligans, Hogwarts drop-outs; several Weasleys were suspected to be among them.

Lies. Lies made out of lies, built on top of lies.

The creaking of the chair across from Hermione startled her from her reading; Lucius had sat down without her even noticing that he had entered the room. His hair was mussed, as if he had repeated raked his hands through it, and his robes were wrinkled. He looked as if he had aged ten years since she had seen him last. Looking at Hermione blearily, he asked, "You think I'm a monster, don't you, girl?" Hermione realized that he had been drinking. His blood-shot eyes flicked down to her stomach. "You'll learn soon enough what it means to be a parent during wartime." He went quiet, staring past the girls and not drinking the tea that Blanche put in front of him.

"Father." Draco stood in the doorway. He looked as if he had been crying. "Mother says its time for you take Blanche to the Dark Lord."

Blanche hunched up, grasping the bottom of her chair with both hands. Lucius sighed and rubbed his eyes hard. "I'm sorry, Blanche. It can't be helped." Hermione had to look away as he pried her hands loose. "If you don't hurry, you're mother will-'' Blanche let out a tiny squeak and stood up. Lucius steered her from the room with a hand on her narrow back; as they passed Draco, Lucius brushed his fingers over the nape of his son's neck. "Tell your mother to cut your hair." Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Hermione felt like a voyeur. She didn't belong in the middle of this intimate family drama. _But I belong to this family now_. Merlin, what a thought.

"We're alone now," Draco said as he picked up the teapot. They finished the tea while curled up together on the couch in the main room, listening to a Francophone version of the WWN play happy pop songs about _amour_. Although she enjoyed their little bit of precious private time, Hermione couldn't help thinking that things were going to take a turn for the worse again, and soon.

...

When it happened, it wasn't Bellatrix, after all.

Hermione was rummaging around in the pantry, hoping for something salty and crunchy. She was really craving Fritos, but she supposed she wasn't likely to find them in a wizard household. Blanche watched her, half-hidden behind the door; she seemed fascinated by Hermione. The pale girl let out one of her squeaks and pointed. Hermione jumped a foot when she saw the whiskers and the beady eyes peering up at her. Then she noticed the paw.

"I should have let Crookshanks eat you!" she snarled as she tried to stomp Scabbers into the floorboards. As the rat dashed for the pantry door, Blanche screeched and fled. Hermione snatched up a cast iron skillet and chased after it. "I will _flatten _you, you miserable, flea-bitten rodent!" Scabbers raced through the kitchen, dodging under the table, then into the main room where he bounced off of Draco's ankle. The rat zigzagged to avoid Draco's kicks and climbed up Bellatrix's skirts.

"_Get out, get out, get out_!" Bellatrix started a frantic jig, shaking her skirts as she tried to dislodge the rat from her clothes. He finally popped out of her cleavage, ran across the top of the couch, jumped to the coat rack, then slid down to the floor where he vanished into a freshly gnawed hole in the wainscoting. Hermione got down on her knees and tried to widen the hole with her hands, but only got splinters.

"You've got to go_ now_, Draco" Narcissa pleaded. She had her son by the shoulders in a grip that had to be painful.

"No! If the Dark Lord comes and Draco isn't here, we might be punished," Bellatrix said harshly.

Hermione slowly stood up, feeling weak as the adrenaline left her system. "How soon can the rat summon Voldemort?" She collapsed onto the couch. Draco twisted out of his mother's grip and sat next to her, taking her hands in his. Bellatrix hissed like a cat, angry that Hermione said _the name_.

"It depends on how far away the Dark Lord is," Narcissa said.

Draco stuck his chin out stubbornly. "In any case, I'm not going."

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears, and she raised her hands to her face. "You don't know what you're in for."

"So, tell me, Mother. Father. What's going to happen?" Hermione was proud of her husband. He was still just a boy, but he was so brave. She could tell he was terrified by the ashen color of his face, by the way he smelled, by the tension in his hands, but he refused to run away. Even though Hermione wanted him to.

Before anyone could answer Draco's question, the front door flew open.


	18. Chapter 18

I know, it took me six weeks to wrte something this short. I have writer's block issues.

...

"_Null Apparat_!" someone shouted, and there was a flash of purplish light. Hermione wasn't familiar with the spell, but she was sure it was to prevent anyone from Apparating away. Three thuggish-looking men entered the cottage. "Who used the Dark Lord's name?" one of them barked.

"N-no one," Narcissa said.

"That's a lie. He's already on his way, anyway." The head thug entered the room with his wand out. His beady eyes lit on Draco, and he stared at the glowing wedding band on the boy's left hand just a beat too long. In that split second, both Narcissa and Lucius had their own wands out, hitting him with stunning spells. The other two men shouted and drew. One threw an _Avada_ which bounced off of a small, decorative mirror and killed its maker. The third man Stunned Lucius before Narcissa used some spell on him that made his face disappear; he fell to the floor, clutching his head and convulsing.

"You idiots!" Bellatrix shouted. "Now we've got to get rid of the bodies before _he_ gets here!"

Hermione heard a strange, hollow moan. Blanche sagged against a wall with her hands covering her face. The air around her seemed to waver. Draco took a step toward his half-sister, but Hermione grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. Blanche's wispy hair stood up on end, forming a halo around her head. Lucius hauled himself up to his knees and crawled over to her, calling her name soothingly. "Be careful, Lucius," Narcissa cautioned; it was the first time Hermione had heard her speak to her husband kindly. Blanche's hands dropped. Her eyes were impossibly wide. Her mouth opened, and the deep moaning grew louder. "Get out of here!" Narcissa shouted frantically as she grabbed Draco and Hermione by their upper arms and dragged them toward the door, displaying an unexpected strength.

It had been so long since Hermione had been outside. She blinked, disoriented for a moment. "Come have to at least_ try _to get away." Draco held her hand.

They had only taken a few steps when the front door blew off its hinges, hurtling through the space which they had occupied just seconds before. Hermione was sure that they would have both been killed if it had hit them. She could hear Bellatrix screaming, and things crashing inside the cottage. "This is what happens when one of the... entities is using her?"

Draco led her on, face grim. "_Playing_ with her. We're toys to them." All the cottage windows exploded outward, but the two of them were far enough into the surrounding trees to be safe from flying shards. They came to a dirt road. "Follow it, but stay hidden in the trees." Draco turned and headed back toward the cottage.

"Where are you going?" Hermione couldn't keep a hint of panic from her voice.

"Mother and Father." He strode off, determination showing in the stiffness of his spine. "Go. Get out of here."

If she had only had a wand, she would have. It would have given her a chance, no matter slight. But she was unarmed and pregnant, and not even sure what country she was in. And when the sun set, her clothing would not be warm enough. Hermione Jean Granger, the witch that prided herself on her ability to use logic in every situation, found herself unable to think of what she should do next.

The black shape hurtled across the sky so fast, it caused a whistling sound. It stopped abruptly, then zoomed to the ground. Before Hermione could react, her wrist was caught in a clammy grip. Her other hand went involuntarily to her stomach. The dark red eyes flicked downward, and Voldemort smiled. It was a hideous sight. "The rat told me about you. One of Potter's friends. Tell me where the boy is or..." One spidery finger reached out, its long, sharp nail poking hard into her rounded belly.

"I don't know," Hermione gasped, closing her eyes so she didn't have to see that scarlet gaze. "Men took him. Then- then one of them betrayed the others and disappeared with him. I thought- I thought he was working for you."

The nail pushed harder, just enough to break skin. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not! The man probably took Harry to Grindelwald!"

The nail was withdrawn. "Clever girl. I may have use for you." Shouts came from the cottage. Hermione turned, and saw Lucius dragging out a limp Bellatrix. Actinic light illuminated the gaping windows and doors in flashes. The Dark Lord let out a strange, soft sound; it was like laughter, but _wrong_. "Ah, my sweet Blanche. Don't move." He flicked one hand, and Hermione found herself frozen in her awkward twist.

Draco had Narcissa propped on his shoulders as he helped her stagger out; blood was pouring down her face. The look in his eyes when he saw Hermione still there was pure devastation. Voldemort flew right past them, right into the cottage. That inhuman voice that was like the slow grinding of great stones boomed, but the words seemed to be garbled.

Bellatrix stirred and moaned, getting to her knees. "My daughter came through just in time," she said faintly. "She's better than Draco."

The voice grew louder, and Hermione longed to be able to cover her ears. She could hear Voldemort, too, sounding exultant. It went on for at least half an hour. The cut on Narcissa's forehead was stanched by Lucius, Bellatrix managed to get back to her feet after vomiting a few times, and Draco worked unsuccessfully at getting Hermione unfrozen. Finally, the light stopped flashing and the voice went quiet. The Dark Lord came out of the cottage with a limp Blanche in his arms. His eyes glowed, and the air around him seemed to waver. "Narcissa, take care of my girl. We are going into battle against Grindelwald. _Now_."


End file.
